200 Hermione Drabbles Project
by LillySteam44
Summary: From a list of two hundred simple prompt words, I'm going to try to write one a day. There's no cohesive story, but they're all centered around Hermione Granger. Any pairing, any situation. At least 500 words per drabble. Rating varies for each drabble. On a small hiatus, will be back soon.
1. First Impression

Eleven year old Hermione Granger, in preparation for her upcoming term at Hogwarts, had read all three books on the school that she'd managed to convince her parents to buy her. Her favorite had been Hogwarts: A History, since it had given the best in depth description of each house, beyond their name. In fact, she'd read Hogwarts: A History twice, once over summer break, and once on the train to school. Unlike most of her fellow first year students, she hadn't known anyone when she got on to the train, so she took the time to enjoy her book, even though it was the second time through.

She loved the descriptions of each of the houses, clever, witty, kind and brave. Ravenclaw seemed like a good match, with her love of books and learning, but Gryffindor sounded the best to her. The home of the brave, and loyal, it'd sounded so romantic when she'd read through the chapter on Godric Gryffindor. She was so wrapped up in her imaginings of Gryffindor dorms, she didn't notice anyone enter her compartment.

"Mind if we sit here?" one of the two boys who'd suddenly appeared asked, making Hermione jump a bit. She looked up from her book, and tried to smile, even though she was thoroughly startled.

"Sure," she said, as she got a good look at them. They appeared to be first years, like herself. One was pale, had slicked back white-blond hair and wore a haughty smirk. The other one had sandy brown hair, a more olive complexion, and smiled a bit more earnestly. "I'm Hermione Granger," she offered.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," the blond one said, as though she should recognize his name. She didn't exactly, but it did sound familiar. "And this is Theodore Nott." He vaguely reference the boy beside him.

"Hello," she'd said brightly, and prepared to return to her book.

"You must have been raised in the muggle world," Draco noted, studying her face carefully.

"Well spotted. I'm muggle-born," she'd told him, remembering the term from some of her research over the summer. "I must be way behind everyone else, so I practiced a bit over the summer." Theodore raised an eyebrow at her.

"You did magic over the summer? Under-aged wizards aren't allowed to use magic," he said.

"I remember reading that, but I didn't do it in front of any muggles. The Ministry doesn't care as long as it's not big magic, and it's not seen by muggles," she told them. "Your parents would punish you if they found out, because they know you're not supposed to. My parents don't know anything about the Wizarding world." Draco nodded, looking a little impressed.

"You'd be good in Slytherin. Too bad the Hat never sorts in muggle-borns," Draco said. "It's generally for their own safety. No one likes a-" A boy pulled open the door to the compartment.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" the boy asked.

The two boys she'd been talking to volunteered her to help the poor boy, named Neville, find his toad. Though she had gotten something good out of her efforts; she got to meet Harry Potter. He'd come up in Notable Wizards of the Twentieth Century. She was glad she'd changed into her robes before the boys had joined her in her compartment, as by the time Neville had his toad back, the train was starting to slow down and stop. She'd gotten in a boat with Harry and Neville, as well as Ron, the red haired boy who'd sat in Harry's compartment on the train. The ride across the lake had been breathtaking, especially with her first view of Hogwarts castle.


	2. Beautiful

The night of the Yule Ball, Ginny had spent four hours and used a whole bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion to tame Hermione's hair from it's normal curly mess into the sophisticated updo it was in when she finally put her dress on. Ginny had taken a step back and smiled brightly at her handiwork.

"You look absolutely gorgeous. Krum's fan girls are going to be even more jealous when they see you like this," Ginny told her, before she started to charm her own, much more manageable hair into a complicated braided style. Hermione sat on Ginny's bed, and tried not to fidget too much.

Hermione didn't see Lavender or Parvati before she left the common room with Ginny, on Neville's arm, and she was a little grateful for it. She frequently felt plain and shabby next to the two more fashionable girls, and while it didn't normally bother her too much, she didn't want her good mood ruined by a stray catty comment.

"You look beautiful, Herm-own-ninny," Viktor had said, bowing to kiss her hand, when he met her at the bottom of the grand staircase. She blushed and laughed, while a mental note to try to correct his awful pronunciation of her name. He offered her his arm and led her over to where the other champions were starting to line up.

"People are staring," she whispered to Viktor. It was much easier to keep her hands still while she waited at the door, her arm wrapped around his.

"They are jealous of my good fortune," he whispered back, and she studied his face for a moment. His words could easily be taken as simple flattery, but he looked so genuine, Hermione couldn't help but smile.

When Harry, with Parvati on his arm, finally surfaced in the crowd waiting to enter the Great Hall, she watched his eyes glide over her, focusing more on Krum, before drifting over towards Cho. After a moment, she realized he hadn't recognised her. She wasn't sure if she should be offended or flattered, but quickly settled on flattered. When he and Parvati came closer to wait with the other champions, she was the first one to recognise Hermione.

"Wow, you look really nice," Parvati offered, her eyes still a little wide. Hermione thanked her, and introduced her to Viktor. She even spotted Ron in the crowd, and offered a little wave to him and Padma.

The doors to the Great Hall opened soon after that, and the Champions' Dance started. Viktor was a good dancer, and Hermione was glad for the hours she'd spent practicing with Neville in the last few weeks. She knew every single step of the formal dance, and even managed not to step on his feet at all.

After the meal, Viktor asked Hermione to dance, and she quickly joined him as a mass of students filled the area where they had danced earlier. She enjoyed this sort of dancing much more, where the steps didn't matter, and everyone was too busy with their own dates to care how anyone else was dancing. When she and Viktor emerged from the crowd after a particularly fast song, she was completely out of breath and grinning widely.

Her worries from the beginning of the night came back in full force at Ron's nasty comments, and she tried, unsuccessfully, to will herself not to cry. She didn't bother worrying about who'd watched them fight, and no longer had the energy to care who saw her cry.

The pins Ginny had used secure her hair were starting to come out. She pulled out one particularly badly mussed hair pin and unconsciously fiddled with it. That was how Viktor found her, with their cups of punch, her hair falling out and tear tracks forming on her face. He sat next to her on the steps of the grand staircase and handed her one of the cups. He wiped away one of the tears on her cheek with his thumb, and held his warm palm against her face.

"Nothing should harm you, beautiful girl."


	3. Mock

" _No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood."_

" _I'm surprised all the Mudbloods haven't packed their bags by now," Malfoy went on. "Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. Pity it wasn't Granger."_

 _Malfoy grinned maliciously, "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."_

" _They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first!"_

"Thank you," Draco Malfoy blurted out, when Hermione had opened the door to her childhood home. He stood on her doorstep on a warm, late spring day, but both Hermione and Malfoy had on long sleeves. Too late, Hermione realized she was tugging on her left sleeve. "For speaking at my trial. Without you and Potter-"

"It's fine," she cut him off quickly. There was no way she could handle thinking about Azkaban at the moment. "I just want to move on." She moved to shut the door, shut him out of her life for good, but he held his hand up, motioning that he wasn't quite done. She leaned on the door frame and braced herself for whatever stupidity would come out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry," he added. "For all the things that I've- just for everything. I understand now. You didn't deserve it." He reach to touch his covered arm, and the faded Mark that was just below the cloth. A pang of sympathy hit her in the heart, and she internally groaned

"Would you like to come in for tea?" She offered, despite her better judgement.

"Tea?" He repeated, as though he hadn't quite heard her right.

"It's a bit early for wine, so yeah, tea," she teased, and stepped aside to let him in.

"But you're saying there could be wine," he teased back, and followed her into her kitchen.

"Only if you don't mind muggle wine-" she stopped when he'd flinched. She suppressed a sigh, and turned to get out the supplies for tea. He was just the same as he had been, and probably would always be. She supposed she could handle one cup of tea with him before she never saw him again.

"Is it any good?" He asked, when the water was nearly ready for the tea bags. "Your muggle wine?"

"It's nothing really special, not really cheap wine, but not top shelf either," she told him, while she placed the milk and sugar on the table. "It was my mother's favorite, though."

He steadfastly did not flinch when she mentioned her mother, and Hermione couldn't help but sigh out loud this time. She set a cup in front of him, and sat across from him.

"If you want something better, you'll have to bring it next time," she told him, as she fixed her tea.

"Next time?" He repeated.

"I swear, you've turned into a parrot. I don't have the galleons to waste on things like expensive elf wine," she teased.

"But you're happy to waste mine," he teased back, and fixed his own tea.


	4. Smile

As horrifying as Malfoy's curse had been, a small part of her had been grateful for it. When Madam Pomfrey had held up the hand mirror and told her to "say when", Hermione had been glad to let her carry on a bit longer than strictly necessary. In the end, her smile was straighter, prettier, but guilt still weighed heavily in her chest.

If she'd been at home, her parents would have noticed straight away and ushered her straight to their clinic. As it was, Ginny was the first to notice.

"I thought you weren't allowed to get them fixed! They look so much better!" Ginny had meant it as a compliment, and for the most part Hermione took it as one. She really couldn't expect the red-head to ever understand. She'd just traded yet another muggle part of her life, a part so important to her parents, for a magical one.

Krum, of all people, noticed enough to say something, even before Harry and Ron did. He'd spent a great deal of time in the library lately researching for the upcoming first task, and she'd helped him find specific sections, and occasionally specific books.

"You look different," he noted as he settled at the same table as her. Hermione smiled, with her new, normal smile.

"I had my teeth fixed after, er, an accident," she told him. "My smile looks much better now."

He'd furrowed his brow, as though he didn't quite understand her words. That happened occasionally, when she used colloquialisms he wasn't familiar with.

"But teeth are not smile," he'd finally said.

Hermione didn't respond. She really didn't know how to explain dentists to him, and how important teeth were, because of her parents. She didn't focus on the words on the page she stared at. Her teeth had changed, of course she had changed.

She'd been dreading going home for Christmas, before the Yule Ball was announced. She'd imagined, when she'd written home to ask if she could stay, that Ron, or maybe Harry, would ask her in a few days. She certainly hadn't expected Viktor Krum to ask her to the Ball a week later. While she'd been hoping Ron would ask, she smiled at the famous Quidditch player and accepted.

It was months before Ron and Harry to noticed, after another casual insult from Malfoy just before Christmas. Hermione was actually surprised that Ron had been the one to notice, out of the two of them. Though she probably shouldn't have been, Harry wasn't always the most observant boy, and he seemed to relegate her as some sort of sexless, walking encyclopedia, instead of a girl.

In the time that since she'd had them fixed, she'd gotten a little more comfortable with going against her parents' wishes, but there was still a small pit of guilt when she thought about them. She'd babbled a little bit more than she had with anyone else who'd complimented her new smile. In the end, she'd been quick to change their focus from her teeth to Pigwideon, back with Sirius' letter.


	5. Feather

**(This one is for PhoenixFeather10, for being an amazing reviewer!)**

There are some things people go through, some things they can't experience without coming out as friends on the other side. There was the troll incident, of course, but there was another such event for Hermione. Saving Sirius from his terrible fate sealed a friendship of sort between her, Harry and Sirius.

While Harry had a much stronger bond with Sirius, she'd worried about him greatly after their escape. That summer, she didn't stop worrying until she'd received a letter from an ostentatious bird. Well, not a letter, exactly, the word _safe_ on a scrap of parchment with one of Buckbeak's feathers. She'd put the feather in her trunk, along with the five others she'd received over the summer. Of course, they came with her to school the following September.

Only a day or two back, and Harry received a letter, with a feather sticking out. He scanned through the letter, and wordlessly handed the feather to Hermione. She smiled and stuck it in her bag, to put with the others later. It formed a similar pattern throughout the year, each time Sirius sent a letter, there'd be a feather enclosed for her. After Harry's name came out of the goblet, they sent letters back and forth more days than not, and Hermione quickly had several dozen feathers. It didn't help Ron's jealousy, at being left out, and everytime she got one he refused to talk to her at least until after their first class.

As the feathers started to take up more and more space, she started to use the larger ones as quills, but she received feathers faster than she could use them. Still, she stowed every new feather in her trunk. While Harry was practicing his Summoning Charms, Hermione started looking at Undetectable Expansion Charms to possibly keep the feathers in.

Somehow, the feathers were a little bit of hope in the large mass of worry Hermione carried on her shoulders as the year went on. Every time the mass got a bit bigger, with the tasks, and attacks, there was another feather, or five, as Harry exchanged letters discussing the event. Perhaps they kept the hope from being drowned out entirely.

The last feather she received during her fourth year came from Sirius directly, when he'd changed back into his human form in the hospital wing. Hermione tried to smile, but she couldn't will herself to do it. A student, a classmate, a friend, was dead, and no amount of feathers or hope would bring him back.

She was a little sad, going home for the summer. There would be no more feathers handed off from Harry's letters. She almost wished she'd gotten an owl, the summer before her third year, but she didn't really. Crookshanks had helped Sirius, even before anyone really knew he was good.

She only received one feather by owl that summer, before her fifth year. It came with a letter from Dumbledore, asking not to send letters to Harry. The letter made no mention of the feather, but it was certainly there on purpose. It certainly sent a clear message, at least to her, that Sirius agreed with Dumbledore. She threw the letter she'd started in the trash, with a small sigh. It had to be for Harry's own good.


	6. Pure

When Hermione was little, her parents always taught her there really wasn't such a thing as "pure evil". People certainly did bad things, but it wasn't because they were _evil._ The summer after her sixth year, she wasn't sure she believed that anymore. She'd seen, and received, curses seemingly made of spite and hatred, and Headmaster Dumbledore was dead by the hand of a man he trusted implicitly.

A voice in the back of her head told her that her actions, wiping her parents' memories, had been dark, and selfish. She tried to shake off the voice, but it came back whenever she thought about her mum and dad.

So she tried not to think about it. Once she arrived at the Burrow, it was easier to forget. The house was so full and so busy, between wedding plans, and plans to retrieve Harry, there was always something to throw herself into. Even when she and Ron weren't busy with those, they were making plans for the coming year. Hermione had been packing for their, er, quest since she arrived. While she was going through their combined collection of books for useful ones, Ron managed the wash, without alerting Mrs. Weasley to their plans.

There just wasn't time to think about her parents. At least, until after the wedding, where they'd run to hide in Sirius' old house. Life had gone from incredibly busy and a mass of people, to slow, quiet and lonely. Grimmauld Place was a good hiding spot, Hermione decided, when she realized the Black library was at her disposal. Harry spent a great deal of time in Sirius' old room, but Ron spent time in the library with her. She didn't really mind, after the first little bit. He could be a good distraction when the voice in the back of her mind piped up.

The first time Hermione was sure pure evil existed was the first time she wore Slytherin's locket. The moment she'd put it on, the voice in the back of her mind got louder, and started talking about more than just her parents. Ron's name came up often once he left. Sometimes, her own thoughts were entirely replaced with those awful, intrusive thoughts. She tried to tune them out with books, but even though she'd brought a large number of them, those started to wear thin for her.

So she started to chose from the pile taken from the shelves in Grimmauld Place. She'd forgotten about the need to use dragonhide gloves until it was too late. There was an odd spinning, and a pull in her midsection she hadn't felt in four years. She knew before she landed that she was traveling through time. When the spinning stopped, and the nausea passed, she finally opened her eyes to the dark stone walls of Hogwarts.

The locket still clouded her thoughts, and instead of demanding to see the Headmaster, she asked the boy, nearly a man, who happened to be there what year it was.

"1943," he answered. His eyes trained on the locket around her neck. "Who are you?"

"I-I don't remember," she had enough wherewithal to lie, at least.

"Well, I'm Tom Riddle. I'm the Head Boy, so I can help you to the Headmaster's," he told her, offering her his hand. He wore a smile she could only describe as pure evil. Her eyes widened, but she took his hand anyways.


	7. Lie

Hermione never lied before she met Ron and Harry. Never. Not even when she couldn't quite explain the effects of her accidental magic. Then those two troublemakers had to save her, and she'd lied for them. She'd learned a very important lesson that day, even if she didn't know it yet. Lies could be a good thing, even if they weren't little, white lies.

As Hermione sat in Professor Umbridge's office, she was glad she'd learned that lesson. Harry had already warned her not to actually drink anything their new Headmistress offered her, when he was questioned separately. Hermione lifted the teacup to her lips, and pretended to drink. It took a great deal of effort not the cringe at the wide grin that spread over Umbridge's face.

"Good, now that you're comfortable, I want to ask about dear Harry's disposition. I'm worried about the boy and I know you're close friends," Umbridge's voice dripped with concern, but Hermione didn't believe it for a second.

"I'm not certain I understand," Hermione said. She furrowed her brow, though she knew exactly what Umbridge was looking for. She pretended to take another sip from the teacup in her hand.

"Has he told you where Albus Dumbledore is hiding?" Umbridge dropped the concern in her voice.

"None of us know where Professor Dumbledore is," Hermione promptly told her. She tried to recall the side effects of Veritaserum, but she had a hard time focusing on it. Umbridge seemed to accept her answer, though with a frown.

"Very well then. Just one more thing before you go, dear. What do you know about secret _illegal_ club meetings?" Umbridge stared at her intently. Hermione wasn't sure if Umbridge was a Legilimens, but made a mental note to learn Occlumency herself.

"I'm not a member of any clubs," Hermione lied. "I'm not really interested in the extracurriculars offered, and I prefer to study on my own."

"As a muggleborn, you must need a little extra help with your upcoming OWLs."

Hermione tried, with difficulty, not to let her temper rise with the bait. She stared behind the older witch at the awful painted cats and took another pretend sip to give herself a moment before she replied.

"I've been at the top of my class since first year, ma'am. I'm rather confident I'll pass all of my OWLs," Hermione replied with a confidence she didn't really feel. It was obvious Umbridge was displeased with their exchange.

"Very well, Miss Granger. Do remember that my Inquisitorial Squad is helping Filch monitor the secret passages in the castle. It won't be hard to find out any rule breakers."

"I don't see why that would be a problem for me," Hermione responded. She placed the teacup in her hands back onto Umbridge's desk. "May I go, professor?"

"Yes, yes. That will be all for now," Umbridge said curtly. "My office is always open, if you have anything further to tell me."

Hermione nodded, and quickly made her way back to Gryffindor Tower. She'd have to make sure Ron knew not to drink the tea when he was called in, because there was no way Umbridge was going to let anything lie.


	8. Fight

Hermione didn't realized just how utterly unprepared she was for dueling until she got into one in the Department of Mysteries. The countless practice duels in Dumbledore's Army had been decent spellwork training, but it really didn't compare to the reality of crossing wands with a Death Eater.

Death Eaters.

She and the others were completely outnumbered by the dark wizards and witches. She hardly had the ability to focus on anything but the curses shot at her. She didn't even get a look look at who she was dueling until she was hit, and a sharp pain spread out from where the purple stream of light hit her, just to the left of her navel.

She recognised the man at the other end of the wand as Antonin Dolohov, one of the dozen Death Eaters who escaped from Azkaban. His mug shot they printed in the Daily Prophet made the man look surly and disinterested. In person, he looked positively gleeful at her pain and blood.

Blood.

She'd only just realized how much she was bleeding, and suddenly it was all she could think about. Worries for her friends faded as the edges of her vision started to look fuzzy.

She hadn't been aware her vision had gone black until she woke up, between the crisp sheets of the hospital wing.

"Harry!" She called out, when she had pulled together her broken memories of that night at the Ministry. Guilt filled her chest. Ron sat nearby and jumped to attention when she spoke. "Where are the others?"

"It's okay," he told her. "Everyone, well, Ginny, Neville and Luna are fine. Harry is, well, he's not hurt. He'll be okay."

"What? What happened?" She demanded. She tried to sit up, but pain shot through her head, and her abdomen.

"Woah! Be careful!" Ron warned. "You got hit with something nasty. You need to stay in bed."

"Tell me what happened, Ronald Weasley."

"Well, the Order came to rescue us, and Sirius, he fell into the Veil," he finally told her. Words wouldn't rise in her throat, not that she knew what to say. "I'm going to tell Madam Pomfrey that you're awake."

She hadn't particularly wanted him to leave, but she didn't have a good reason for him to stay while her abdomen ached as it did. Once alone, she couldn't keep her thoughts from Sirius Black. She'd never been particularly close with the older man, but she'd had a strange sort of bond with him, formed the night she and Harry had saved him from the Kiss.

Madam Pomfrey bustled towards her bed in the hospital wing with a large tray covered in various colored bottles, only a few of which were recognizable to Hermione. She dutifully swallow each one, no matter how awful it tasted. As she did, the pervasive, aching pain in her body started to ebb away.

After she'd downed her fifth potion, Hermione decided once this was all over, if she managed to survive, she would never fight again.


	9. Evasion

Hermione had been running long before the Muggle Born Registration Committee was formed. It's founding proved to more than a little discouraging. Of course, something of the nature had been forth coming, especially after Bill and Fleur's wedding.

Once they'd seen the Committee's effects firsthand, hordes of Snatchers filled Hermione's nightmares. True paranoia didn't set in until after Ron had left them. After that, she saw them behind every tree, and heard them in every rustle of leaves. It was even worse when she wore the stupid locket.

In the end, after all was said and done, that paranoia proved to be the worse war wound to heal. Adrenalin would kick in at an owl tapping on the window, or a knock at the door. One particularly bad day, she'd stunned Ron when he'd let himself in with her spare key. Regretful and teary eyed, Hermione agreed that she couldn't handle living alone.

Arthur and Molly had immediately offered her a room in the Burrow, but there was no way she could deal with so many people coming and going with little warning. She'd been staying in Harry and Ginny's guest room for a day when George offered her the extra room in the flat above the shop.

Perhaps it had been an offhanded offer, something said to be polite, but something in George's eyes told her he wanted her to say yes.

"The shop closes at nine everyday, and we charmed the flat so the noise doesn't travel," he'd told her, and she couldn't help but agree. She agree to move into Fred's old room. George smiled, tiny and fragile. "But I'd hear you, if you called out. If you need my help." Even still, she'd been determined to not bother him with her anxiety.

That plan fell through when she woke up from a nightmare, screaming, that very first night. It hadn't even been a particularly bad one, either. The problem arose when she didn't immediately know where she was, and had her wand in hand before she had sense. Too slow, pieces started coming back to her, and the familiar red head burst into her room and all at once, everything clicked. Still, she pointed her wand at him with tears streaming down her face.

He raised his hands where she could see them, and spoke softly. "It's okay, Hermione. It's okay. Can I come closer?"

She couldn't do more than nod at him, wand still raised. He moved closer and she slowly lowered her wand, still tight in her grip.

"Is it okay if I hug you?" He asked, nearly at a whisper. She nodded again, and he enveloped her in his arms. She cried into his shoulder, as he guided her back to her bed. He laid with her, holding her close, never once taking her wand from her hand. Once she'd fallen asleep, he made sure her wad went safely under her pillow; they all kept them there; and tried to disentangle himself from her. She stirred and lazily opened her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," he said, quietly.

"Stay?" She requested, as much with her eyes as with her word. He did.


	10. Tease

Hermione certainly wasn't interested in Draco Malfoy, as he smirked at her from across the Heads' common room after dinner one evening. It was easy to ignore him though, as she sat, curled up on the couch, and continued to read the book in her hands. They'd had to live together for a full three weeks so far, and up until now Hermione had managed to more or less ignore him and his jabs at her hair and her heritage.

Vaguely, she registered that he'd said something, but she was too caught up in her reading to really understand what it was. Much delayed, Hermione finally lifted her eyes from the page, at more or less a good stopping point, to find Draco much closer, a smirk at his lips. It didn't have the light hearted nature, like the smirk Harry's Uncle Sirius almost always wore.

"It's impolite to ignore someone talking to you," he teased, but she merely waved him away, and started to turn back to her book.

"I'm not required to be polite to you," she shot back, without a teasing tone in her voice. "Hey!" Draco took the book out of her hands, glanced at the cover, and tossed it onto one of the chairs behind him.

"It goes both ways, sweetheart," he told her. "Come have tea with me."

"I would think someone who thinks himself as suave as you do would realize that's not how you get a girl to do what you want," Hermione told him, as she got up to fetch her book.

"Like you can resist me."

Hermione turned on her heel to face him, a scowl on her face.

"I'm not like those girls who swoon over your mere glance. I don't care about your rich parents, or your blood status, or your carefully crafted, tousled hair. I'm not interested in your attention."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her, and far too late, Hermione realized she'd inadvertently issued him a giant challenge. After a moment under his glare, his expression changed, and Hermione didn't quite know how to read it. He looked… thoughtful? Soon, his attention was no longer focused on her, but towards the tiny kitchenette Hermione had set up in one corner of the room their first night in. It was just big enough to hold a few snacks and supplies for tea, with a cabinet charmed to keep the milk cold.

She looked at him questioningly, but after a moment, shook her head to clear her thoughts and grabbed her book before disappearing into her bedroom where she stayed for the rest of the night. When she emerged the next morning, she had more or less forgotten about the exchange from the night before, and, eyes still half closed, went to make herself a cup of tea. Draco was already standing there, holding a mug of tea out to her.

"Sugar? Milk?" He offered, but Hermione was already drinking from the cup. She took a moment with it, and finally seemed to wake up completely. For the first time since she'd gotten up, she took a good look at Draco and realized he only wore emerald green gym shorts, leaving Hermione with a very good view of his wiry frame, filled out nicely from years of Quidditch. She averted her eyes, but didn't say anything until she'd finished her mug of tea. She set it down, and smiled at him.

"Thanks," she said, a smile broke out on her face. "For the tea, and the gossip. Lavender will love to know you haven't actually got a tattoo of a dragon on your chest."


	11. Fire

After a full day of pick up Quidditch games, someone had the brilliant idea to start a bonfire for all the Hogwarts alumni who came to the picnic Hermione had mostly arranged, though everyone had been quick to thank harry, for his brilliant idea in suggesting an Alumni Day happen. For the most part, Hermione didn't really mind. She hated being the center of attention for anything, and she enjoyed the peace of sitting quietly by the fire and drinking from a bottle of butterbeer she made certain hadn't ever been in the hands of George Weasley.

"This seat taken?" Someone said, snapping Hermione out of her thoughts, of house elves and law offices. She looked up to see Oliver Wood, and shook her head. He sat in the grass next to her. "Great day, innit?"

"Yeah. It was lots of fun," Hermione said, though she wasn't completely telling the truth. It had been nice to see so many old friends all together in one place again, but the whole event had been tiring to put together, and to keep running smoothly. She'd also quickly gotten tired of the offers to take her flying, or admonishments to her personal dislike of Quidditch. She started to pick at blade of grass and throw them into the fire, staring at her hands.

"You look like you could relax a bit," he said, as he shifted behind her and brought his hands to her shoulders. She started to protest, but his hands kneaded into her back and shoulders in just the right way that caused her to let out a satisfied moan. She relaxed under his hands, leaned back against his chest and stared into the fire with a contented smile.

"We carry this on for too much longer, and I'll get a reputation," Hermione joked as Oliver's hands prodded a knot just under her left shoulder blade.

"You mean you aren't switching between Harry's and Ron's beds, like the tabloids like to say?" He teased, as though he were shocked, as she made a soft mewing noise as he found another tense spot on her lower back.

"And you aren't seeing a different woman every night, all over Wizarding London?" Hermione responded with the same tone, and they both laughed. Hermione found she enjoyed his laugh, hearty and deep.

"Touche," he told her, and lifted his hands from her back. "You appear to be completely relaxed."

"I feel like it. Thanks Oliver," she said, with the same contented smile on her face. She remained leaned against his chest for a moment longer though.

"I heard George donated a whole crate of fireworks," he said, his voice dropped to a near whisper, right near her ear. He felt warm, against the slightly chilly spring night air, and Hermione hadn't been keen to get up just yet. "We could go watch them together."

"Yeah," she said, slightly out of breath. "I suppose we could." She didn't move from where she sat, even still. Oliver looped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

"Or, we could skip it. I have a nice bottle of firewhiskey back at my place," he offered. His voice was even lower than before; his lips grazed her ear. One of his hands drifted up the side of her thigh, just at the point where her jean cut offs stopped.

"I don't think we'll make it to that," she said, and he teased a light kiss against her neck.

"I was hoping you'd say that."


	12. Ice

It'd taken two days of logical arguments, and appeals to Flitwick's fun loving nature until he'd agreed to Hermione's request to a lesson on group charms. She smiled widely as she, Ron and Harry made their way out onto the snowy grounds for their Charms lesson the next day. She giggled when they complained about the cold weather, and offered them Warming Charms for their cloaks and gloves, which they both accepted.

"How does Flitwick think we're going to be able to take notes out here?" Ron said. "You must be devastated, Hermione."

She merely shrugged, and tried not to grin too widely, as they got closer to the other sixth years that had already gathered for their Advanced Charms lesson, near the the Black Lake. A few minutes later, Professor Flitwick was ready to start the lesson.

"Today, we're going to learn the potential strength and rewards in group casting," he began. "Can anyone tell me what the biggest benefit to group castings is? Miss Patil, er, sorry girls, Padma?"

"The more people casting, the stronger the Charm, of course," she answered.

"The power is exponential," Hermione added. "Unlike separate charms on the same target, which only adds geometrically."

"Very good. Ten points to both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor," Flitwick squeaked. "Today we'll be casting a Freezing Charm as a group." Neville's hand shot in the air.

"Isn't it already cold enough?" He asked.

"Our target won't be the air, Mr. Longbottom," their teacher told them. "Our target will be the Black Lake, after which we'll learn about the rewards of group effort, with a little ice skating."

An excited murmur broke out among the students as Flitwick told students where to stand, and the fine details of casting as a group. Once each student was evenly spaced out around the lake, and with the help of a Sonorus Charm, directed the timing for the casting. On the first try, and film of ice formed at the edges of the lake, and got a bit bigger on the second, but with the third try, a thick sheet of ice spread out over the entire lake.

With that, Professor Flitwick had essentially given his sixth year class permission to play in the snow. A few students had transformed their shoes into ice skates, and a large majority of students had charmed their shoes not to slip on the ice and were starting to create bases on opposite sides of the lake, where a snowball fight started to break out, Slytherins and Hufflepuffs against Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. Ron, Neville and Seamus were helping the Gryffindor side of the fight, where Ron was teaching them a spell that Fred and George had taught him, to have their snowballs target green scarves and gloves.

Hermione smiled at the outcome of her planning and convincing. Any worries about the war were temporarily forgotten by most of the students, and it made Hermione feel warm in her chest, until she noticed Harry. He wasn't having fun with the rest of the class, instead his eyes were intently trained on Malfoy, as though Malfoy were going to sneak off from the frozen lake.

"Have you ever been ice skating, Harry?" Hermione asked. He shook his head, and Hermione changed their shoes into ice skates.

"Then come skate with me," she said, holding out her hand to him. "I'll keep you from falling." Harry glanced back towards Malfoy, and Hermione put her hand in his.

"But what if-?"

"Flitwick is keeping track of all of us. If Malfoy tries to cut class, he'll get detention," Hermione cut him off. She tried to keep herself from frowning. If anyone needed a chance to relax, it was Harry. He didn't quite look convinced, but he followed her out onto the lake and almost immediately stumbled on the slick ice.

He realized quickly that Hermione had added a charm to his skates that completely prevented him from fall. His hand felt extra warm, where their Warming Charms met, as Hermione led him in a wide circle around the lake. For the rest of class, Harry forgot about horcruxes and Death Eaters and Malfoy. For the first time in a long time, he even smiled.


	13. Cheer

Christmas was always at the Burrow, even after Harry, Ron and Hermione had finally cleaned out Grimmauld Place and made that their home. Ron was certainly eager to spend a few days in his childhood home, and Harry seemed to regard the Burrow with a similar kind of nostalgia. Hermione, however, found it difficult to be happy at the approaching holiday, and the sheer number of people who would be at the Burrow.

She wished she could go _home_ , not Hogwarts, or the Burrow, but her own childhood home. In the boys' excitement at their time off from the Auror's office, they didn't notice Hermione slip into her bedroom, the one she'd previously shared with Ginny years ago. She sat on her bed, and tried to will herself not to cry as she held the quilt she had her mother had made together, finished the day before she found out she was a witch, to her chest. She'd had Christmases since she discovered there was no returning her parents' memories, but they never seemed to get easier.

She dried her eyes the best she could and took a deep breath to put her emotions back in check. By the time she'd neatly laid her quilt back into place, one of the boys knocked on the door.

"Are you in here, Hermy-own?" It took a moment to register the voice was not Harry or Ron's, and heavily accented on top of that. Her mouth dropped open a little in surprise, but she couldn't help the smile that started to form on her lips as she went to open her bedroom door.

"Viktor!" She cried in an excited voice. She threw her arms around his neck, up on her tiptoes. "I didn't know you were coming."

"It vos surprise," he told her, as he returned her hug, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Potter wrote to me, and said you were not happy."

She pulled back, and looked at him. His smile had a proud, pleased sort of look. Her vision dropped to her feet, and she dropped her hands from his shoulders.

"Oh you didn't have to come to England for me," she said. As she stared down, she realized she was wearing an old pair of Gryffindor Quidditch gym shorts, and a, thankfully clean, loose, plain t shirt. She tried not to grimace at how it might look to Viktor.

"I vanted to, Hermy-own," he told her. He brought his hand to her chin and gently lifted her face to match his gaze. "I vant you to be happy."

"I should get dressed," she said, after a long moment of silence. "Properly dressed. Tell Harry to show you the library. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Of course, krasiva," he said. He left, and Hermione shut the door behind him. Immediately she turned towards her closet and ruffled through her small collection of dresses. Her worries about her home and her parents weren't forgotten, but she took immense comfort in her friends' attempts to cheer her up.


	14. Teamwork

"Please, Hermy-own, just talk to me," Krum called, as followed up behind her. She ignored him, and stalked down the hallway towards the library. He was faster though, and easily got close enough to grab her wrist, and forced her to stop and look at him.

"Ow! Viktor, you're hurting me!" she said and pulled her wrist, but he held fast.

"I vant to talk. I vant to tell you I am sorry," he said.

"I have no interested in talking," she said, as she struggled to stay calm. "Please let go."

"Not until you accept my apology," he insisted, and his grip felt tighter on her wrist. Hermione closed her eyes, tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. Panic started to rise in her chest. Suddenly Viktor's hand was no longer wrapped around her wrist, and her eyes snapped open. Cedric Diggory had his wand pointed at Viktor, who'd been thrown back against the wall. Hermione pulled her hand against her body, and held it close.

"That not how you treat a lady," Cedric snarled at Viktor, who righted himself quickly. Hermione was glad that Viktor's attention was no longer on her, and quietly backed up.

"This is not your concern," Viktor told him. He didn't sound angry, per say, merely annoyed. "Perhaps you should return to your own lady."

"It certainly is my concern when you're harassing Hogwarts girls. I am Hogwarts' champion." While there was no direct threat in Cedric's words, his tone was enough to cause Viktor to pause. Viktor looked towards Hermione again, and she froze. Cedric stepped between her and Viktor, and glared at the Bulgarian.

"I vill talk to you later, Hermy-own," Viktor said, attempting to talk around Cedric, and stormed away, most likely towards the ship.

"Are you okay?" There was such a shift in his tone, that Hermione took a moment to register Cedric had even spoken. He'd turned to her and spoke in gentle tone. "Did he hurt you?"

"I'm okay," she said, dismissively. "He just held my wrist a little too hard."

"Come on, let me see," he said, and he held out his own hand towards her. Hermione looked at him for a moment, and offered her arm forward. He gently turned it to inspect it, and she hissed at a small jolt of pain. "You need to see Madam Pomfrey," he declared.

"No, it'll be fine. It's just a bruise," Hermione tried to argue, but Cedric wouldn't hear any of it. She lowered her eyes to the floor, and followed slightly behind him quietly.

"You should come to me," he told her, "if he bothers you again."

"Do you really think it's your job to protect all Hogwarts girls? Just because some cup spat out your name?" Hermione asked.

"It's my job because I'm prefect," he corrected her. "The champion bit is just a fancy title. I won't have someone like Viktor Krum thinking girls are just his for the taking because he can caught a Snitch over the summer."

Hermione didn't say anything the rest of the way to the hospital wing, and while he sat with her while Madam Pomfrey did her work. She thanked him, as they left the hospital wing.

"You will tell me, will you? If he bothers you again?" He asked. Hermione made a noise she hoped he would take as good enough, and he looked at her as though it was. He insisted on seeing her to the Gryffindor common room.

The next morning, a Saturday, Hermione knew something was really wrong when Dean offered to go to the library with her. When he had to leave for an Art Club meeting, a third year Hufflepuff boy hermione didn't know asked for help with Arithmancy. The rest of the day, Hermione was absolutely never alone, no matter where she went. She'd never been so popular, or confused. Her confusion was quickly cleared up after dinner, when she spotted Viktor coming out of the Great Hall, trying to catch up with her, when three Ravenclaw fifth year girls cut off his path to ask for autographs, and one of the girls looked back at Hermione was a knowing smile.

Instead of going back to the common room for the game of Exploding Snap Harry had suggested, Hermione evaded the other Gryffindors at the fourth floor and went to go find Cedric. Which, turned out to be easier than expected, as the first person she asked was happy to go with her to the empty classroom Cedric spent his free time in with his House mates. The boy she'd asked had hesitated at the door, and apparently decided she was safe enough with the Hufflepuffs, and left her.

"What did you do, Cedric Diggory?" Hermione demanded, her arms crossed at her chest, and a scowl on her face.

"I haven't done anything," he replied, and one of his mates laughed. Hermione finally realized Cedric certainly wasn't alone in the room. There were two other Hufflepuff sixth years in the room as well. "It was far more of a team effort."

"A team effort?" Hermione repeated.

"You weren't going to let me know if Krum was still harassing you, so I made sure he couldn't. Everyone else was eager to help a fellow Hogwarts student," Cedric told her. Hermione groaned and put her hand to her head. The end of the year could not come fast enough.


	15. Kiss

(Con't from Part 5: Feather)

It'd been years since Hermione had seen any of the feathers she used to have. The ones she'd stowed away in her trunk. The last one, too small to make into a quill, had been used in a hairclip, as a present for Luna during sixth year. The blonde girl's eyes had lit up, as she recognised the source of the feathers. They both knew Hermione had given her a tiny piece of hope.

It'd been even longer since she'd gotten a feather by letter. The last one had been in the beginning of fifth year, before Umbridge started searching incoming mail, with a special focus on Harry's, and likely her's and Ron's as well, though they never had anything more than innocent letters home. So it left Hermione puzzled how she'd opened her kitchen window, expecting the owl to bear a copy of the Daily Prophet, and found one of Buckbeak, er, Witherwing's feathers instead, with no letter. After a moment, she realized it was likely one of the school owls. Perhaps it was Harry, with his frequent talks at Hogwarts, or even Luna, picking up a molted feather on her way to visit Hagrid, and the thestrals.

For some reason, though, she felt compelled, not to visit the grounds of Hogwarts, but Grimmauld Place. She fed the owl a treat, and sent it away, before she over to her fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo powder.

12 Grimmauld Place was almost as bad as when she'd arrived with the Weasleys, all those years ago. Harry had been meaning to clean it up for years, get rid of all the dark artifacts and turn it into a summer home for kids who didn't have much of a home to go to, but his work in the Aurors office kept him too busy to see the project through. Hermione smiled at the thought of muggleborns, half bloods and purebloods, all intermixed. Sirius would have loved the idea.

Sirius.

Caught up in her own thoughts, Hermione accidentally tripped over the grate. While she managed to catch herself from falling face first onto the dusty wood floors, it was enough noise to wake Walburga Black in her frame.

"FILTHY MUDBLOOD! SOILING THE ANCIENT-" the portrait began to scream. Hermione scrambled up to pull the curtains closed again, but someone else beat her to it, before she could even leave the drawing room, where the fire was.

"Harry?" She tentatively, quietly called out. Her wand was on her hand, and she moved slowly towards the door. "Ron?" She couldn't think of who else would be visiting this place again.

Whoever it was seemed to have heard her, as she could hear footsteps coming towards the drawing room, towards her. She gripped her wand a little tighter, and didn't even think about the defensive stance she'd fallen into. Her wand was trained on the door, as a figure appeared in the doorway, one that looked remarkably like Sirius Black.

"You've aged well, Hermione," he said, a smile on his face despite the wand trained on him.

"That's a really bad disguise. Sirius Black has been dead for almost ten years," she growled, but she couldn't bring herself to hex him just yet.

"It's actually me, kitten."

Her breath caught in her throat.

"What did you call me?" She finally managed, though her voice cracked. She tried to sit on one of the dusty chairs, but her eyes were trained on Sirius and she fell backwards. Sirius rushed forward, despite her wand still pointed at him.

"Careful! Don't hurt yourself," he cried as he put his hand on her shoulder.

"I want you to be real," she said, her wand arm wavered. "You have to be real. I don't think I could stop you." Sirius drew his hand from Hermione's shoulder down her arm, to the feather still in her non dominant hand.

"I sent you this. I've sent you hundreds of feathers."

Emotion overruled war reflexes, and Hermione threw her arms around Sirius' neck, and tears started to form in the corners of her eyes.

"I missed you," she whispered against the side of his face. He pulled back and looked her in the eyes.

"We should help you up, yeah?" His smile was infectious. "Can't spend all night on the floor, can we?" He held out his hand to her, and she took it after stowing her wand. As he helped her up, she couldn't keep her eyes off of him.

She mind stuttered and she paused, taking him in. He looked as though he hadn't aged a day while he was in the Veil, as though no time had passed since she was sixteen. He wore the same unabashed grin, and the mischievous gleam in his eye. Her mouth started to go dry as a vague thought of love potions came and went as she stepped towards him and kissed him. He responded nearly immediately, and nibbled on her bottom lip. After a moment, Hermione pulled back, gasping for air.

"That was quite an unexpected welcome," he said with a light smirk. He looped an arm around her waist and pulled her tighter against him. "I wouldn't mind another."


	16. Book

Hermione busied herself with packing away her new textbooks in her school trunk, at the foot of her bed. It'd had been a good day, visiting Diagon Alley and meeting up with Ron and Harry for the day. Even Malfoy and his awful father hadn't managed ruined it, despite his jabs at all of them. She smiled, at the thought of Ron defending her, and wasn't quite paying attention when her hand met a leather bound book in her bag she didn't remember picking out.

She lifted it out of the shopping bag, and studied it carefully. It looked like it had once been an expensive book, but had faded and worn with age. She wondered if it had been a gift from the Weasleys, a hand-me-down book Ron thought she might like. The pages, however, weren't filled with incantations and diagrams and runes. They were all blank. She furrowed her eyebrows and flipped through the pages, hoping it was some kind of invisible ink.

Her face brightened, when she remembered the eraser the twins had given her for Christmas last year, after she'd inadvertently distracted McGonagall during one of their pranks. It was supposed to erase concealment charms. She quickly found it in her trunk, and rubbed it over one of the pages in the middle. When nothing appeared, she put the eraser back in her trunk with a disappointed frown. It might just be that it was a very old, forgotten diary that no one had bothered to fill.

Hermione sat the diary on her bed and finished putting away her books. She'd frowned when all the new Defense books didn't fit, she dug around and made a tough decision to leave home the muggle fiction books she'd brought last year, as well as _Hogwarts, A History_ , which she had read at least four times. She placed the books back on her shelf, and finally sat down at her desk with the old diary.

 _Dear Diary_ , Hermione wrote, feeling a bit silly, _My name is Hermione Granger, and I really can't wait to go back to Hogwarts in the fall. I really miss magic._

She gasped as the words disappeared from the page, and she decided it must be a prank from the twins. At least she had, until words, ones she hadn't written, started appearing on the page.

 _Hello Hermione. That's certainly a pretty name._

Hermione immediately closed the book, but didn't push it away from her. Maybe it really was a prank, and the book was designed to merely spit the words you wrote back at you. She opened it again, and wrote again.

 _Do you have a name?_

There, she sat back with a smug smile on her face as the words faded. It couldn't just parrot back her words. If it did turn out to be just a joke, at least it would be an impressive joke.

 _My name is Tom Riddle. I used to be a student at Hogwarts, a long, long time ago._

Hermione tapped her pen cap against her lips and slightly frowned. It could still be a joke, of course, but it didn't feel like one. A thought finally occurred to her about the book, as another grin drifted onto her lips. She picked up her pen again.

 _I'm only going to be a second year. I got top marks on exams last year, even with the terrible mess that happened in the spring._

The words disappeared, and almost immediately, different words appeared in their place.

 _Tell me what happened._

It seemed so obvious now that the book wasn't meant to be a laugh, but therapeutic. That certainly made sense for a diary, right?


	17. Magic

"I _told_ you, Mum, I have no idea how the librarian didn't see me before closing. I lost track of time while reading." Hermione told her. "I was at the table I'm always at, and I would have left if she'd asked me."

Her mother and father exchanged a look across the dinner table. Hermione frowned down at her plate, and pushed her carrots back and forth with her fork.

"You don't believe me, do you?" she added, quietly.

"We believe you, Hermione," her mother said at once. "We're just concerned."

"Do I have to go back to Dr. Moran?" the little girl nearly whined. She crinkled her nose. "His office smells like garlic and incense."

"Of course you have to keep seeing your psychologist," her father admonished. Hermione knew better than to talk back to her mother. She picked at her dinner for a few more minutes, and asked to be excused.

When her father said she could go, Hermione ran up to her room and settled at her desk. She fished her book out of her school bag. She wasn't supposed to be reading fantasy books, strictly speaking, ever since she started telling her parents she could do magic. Hermione could hardly be blamed for wanting to read _The Hobbit_ ; it was a classic, after all. She'd only been reading for twenty minutes when the doorbell rang. She jumped in surprise and quickly stashed her book under her pillow.

She didn't remember her parents saying they were expecting anyone. A quick check through her pale yellow curtains show no extra car in the driveway, or out on the road. Curiosity got the better of her and she went to the top of the stairs and listened to her father open the front door. She couldn't quite hear the exact words, but she could tell it was a woman on the other side of the door.

Suddenly, her father stepped aside and a serious looking woman in an odd dress and hat stepped through the door. The woman noticed Hermione right away.

"You must be Hermione Granger, then." The old woman had a kind voice, the sort her favorite teacher in primary had. Hermione shyly nodded as her father called her mother to join them.

When they were settled in the living room, Hermione sat between her parents on the couch and the woman, who introduced herself as Minerva McGonagall to her mother, sat the high backed arm chair near the window, the old woman started what sounded like a well rehearsed speech.

"I'm here to discuss Hermione's options for schooling in the fall," she began.

"There's no need for any of that, Mrs. McGonagall," her mother protested, quite proudly. "Our Hermione's gotten a scholarship to Wycombe Abbey."

"Professor, Mrs Granger. I'm a professor and deputy headmistress of a rather special school," McGonagall told her. "Hermione, tell me, have you had anything happen that you couldn't explain? Particularly when you were upset or scared?"

Hermione looked at her hands as nerves started to gather in her stomach.

"It's okay, Hermione," her mother told her. "You can tell her."

"Oh, well, sometimes, when I'm reading, sometimes no one can find me. Even when I'm in plain sight," Hermione told the old woman.

"That's enough, Hermione. We've spent a great deal of effort for you to feel normal, like your classmates," her father interrupted.

"Then I'm afraid you've done your daughter a disservice, Mr. Granger," McGonagall told him. Hermione's mouth dropped open, when it all suddenly clicked in her head.

"Are you saying I _can_ do magic, Professor McGonagall?" Hermione asked.

"That is precisely what I am saying, Miss Granger. You are not normal by most people's standards. You are a witch." The old woman, witch?, took a thick envelope out of her pocket with a weird seal on the back and handed it to the young girl. "You've been invited to study magic at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."


	18. Work

Hermione's proudest day was the day she'd been promoted to deputy head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She wasn't the youngest person to ever rise to the post, like Harry had been when he was promoted to Head of the Auror's office at 27. She was, however, the first muggleborn to ever hold the position. That little achievement was enough for her, at least at first.

She hadn't looked back to see just how badly she'd thrown herself into her work until the party Molly had thrown for the occasion. At first, she'd had a grand time at dinner with the family that had adopted her, long before she'd married Ron. It was easy to find a lively conversation among the bunch, and even ones that had nothing to do with Quidditch. That good spirit had lasted until she'd gone into the house to grab her jacket, as the night air had cooled dramatically. She stopped short when she realized two figures were closely entwined in the kitchen. She'd figured it was any one of the Weasley children and their spouse, having a moment alone, and she hadn't wanted to intrude or take their moment of quiet. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she looked a little closer as quietly as she could. The couple broke apart and Hermione saw nothing but red.

Her jacket and purse forgotten, she stormed out of the Burrow, not really giving a single thought to how much noise she made. She couldn't stop the tears that threatened to spill over, and immediately sought out the only other person who could even remotely make her feel better.

"Harry," she gasped when she finally found him. "I need, well Ron, he-" Harry looked at her carefully. Tears had already started to fall, and though he didn't understand exactly what she was saying, he was at least suggested the first thing he thought might help.

"It's okay, Hermione," he said. "I think I saw Ron go into the house. We can find him."

"No, no," she only barely kept herself from shouting. "He was with some other-" It was all she could manage before she broke down into unintelligible tears.

Harry's eyes went wide, and he pulled his friend into a hug. He looked around over her head to Ginny. Thankfully she was nearby, and noticed Harry's gesture quickly. It was hard to miss the sobbing girl in Harry's arms. Hermione hadn't yet noticed, more people than not had heard her outburst and were watching her with concern.

"I have to take Hermione home. Ron's being a prat, and something happened," he explained quickly. "You can handle your mum, right?"

Ginny nodded. She wasn't quite frowning, but a familiar hardness was in her eyes. Harry had seen that sort of steel in her before, usually before she was about to hex someone. He noticed she'd pulled her wand, before he led Hermione towards the edge of the garden to Apparate away.

After that, Hermione didn't see Ron, even after she'd signed the divorce papers. It had been a clean break, separate Gringotts accounts, and no children, but it had felt anything but clean for Hermione. She hadn't even started picking up her life again when Ron announced his engagement to Susan Bones to the papers. It would certainly take quite a bit of work.


	19. Fly

"Remedial flying?" Harry repeated, as though it were the funniest thing in the world. It probably was, at least to him. "You have to take _remedial flying_?"

Hermione turned pink, and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't want to embarrass Hogwarts in front of the other schools when they get here," she defended, her voice sharper than she'd intended.

"You mean McGonagall didn't want you to embarrass her, right?" Harry corrected. "She was a Quidditch player for Gryffindor, back in the day."

"Fine. Yes, I'm required to take them. Can I use your Firebolt please?" she admitted.

"I don't know. Are you sure you'll be able to handle it?" Harry snickered, and Hermione's blushed deepened. She had to admit he had a point. It was likely akin to handing her the keys to a Ferrari for her first driving lesson.

"Fine. I'll tell Madam Hooch I need to use one of the school brooms," Hermione declared, and both boys gave an exaggerated shudder. The old Shooting Stars were slow and vibrated if one flew too high. Most of them even tended to stray to the right or left.

"Alright, alright. You can borrow my Firebolt, but I get to watch your lessons," Harry said. He gave her an innocent face, but Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. There was no way he would let her live it down.

"Absolutely not. I'm already scarred from your teasing, and you haven't done it yet." Hermione was ready to stand absolutely firm on that point. Reluctantly, they agreed not to sit in the stands for her lessons, after she promised she'd go flying with them at the Burrow this summer. It hadn't been the most ideal of agreements, but Hermione decided she would put it out of her mind until June came around.

When she made her way to the pitch the next afternoon, she couldn't have been more glad she hadn't agreed to Harry's original terms. Instead severe looking Madam Hooch, a tall, dark haired, handsome boy appeared to be waiting for her to arrive.

"Granger, right?" he said when she'd come close enough to talk. Hermione wanted nothing more to be swallowed up by the grass under her feet. Cedric Diggory couldn't really be her flying instructor, could he?

"Yeah. We met at the World Cup over the summer," she reminded him.

"Oh, you were with the Weasleys at the portkey. I remember that. Anyways, ready to get started?" he asked pleasantly.

"Where's Madam Hooch? Wasn't she supposed to be my instructor?" Hermione asked.

"It's technically a detention for me. I sort of helped Scott and the Weasleys with their Age Potions. It was either this, or caring for all the brooms in the shed," he explained. "Unless you'd like to join the first years with their lesson?"

"No," she nearly yelled, at once. Diggory grinned at her reaction and nodded to the broom in her hand.

"I imagine the first years would be jealous of that thing anyways. Come on, let's get started."

He started with correcting her posture and grip on the broom, and Hermione's cheeks went bright red when he put his hand on her shoulder. Sooner than she'd like, he was telling her to kick off from the ground. By the end of the lesson, Hermione was extremely flustered and eager to get to the ground.

"Same time on Thursday, okay?"

She was not keen on getting back on a broom again, ever, but she knew lessons wouldn't end until McGonagall approved.


	20. Snow

It'd been more weeks than Hermione wanted to count since Ron and Harry had their fight and Ron had stormed away. Since then, she hadn't slept a good night, and Harry spent hours and hours staring at Ginny's name on the map. The weather grew cold and unforgiving, and most of Hermione's efforts got put into keeping their tent warm. When Harry suggested visiting Godric's Hollow, Hermione had agreed readily though she could tell that the sword of Gryffindor wasn't on his mind.

Then, when their spirits were as low as they were, who was Hermione to take that from him? There was no reason they couldn't pay their respects to his parents and search for the sword. Plus, Harry was happier than she'd seen him since- well, in weeks.

When they finally Apparated into the village a week later, Hermione initially worried about the thick cover of snow on the ground, and still falling. She'd been partially relieved when Harry suggested they go without the cloak. She could take the time to enjoy what she could of the snow, and the smattered signs on Christmas in windows of houses and shops. It made her heart drop a little bit in nostalgia and longing. She tried to push thoughts of her parents from her own head.

"Look, there!" Hermione pointed to a statue that hadn't been, just a moment ago. "That's them, er, you!"

Harry looked up at the statue and immediately looked away. Hermione reached over and took his hand in hers. He managed a small smile at her, more for her sake than anything, and they continued towards the graveyard. The gate wasn't locked, and Hermione breathed just a little bit easier. Godric's Hollow's population wasn't entirely magic, like Hogsmeade was, but it wasn't hard to imagine a wizard among the clergy of the church, or a witch in the local police department. A lock on the gate could have meant more than a simple _Alohamora_.

Both she and Harry had their hands already on their wands, as they moved through the graveyard. It was larger than it had looked before they'd entered the gate, but Hermione suspected muggles couldn't see many of the older headstones. It wouldn't be hard for anyone to sneak up on them among the shadows and graves. There a large number of names Hermione recognised either from various books she'd read during her time at Hogwarts or through surnames, from old wizarding families. The farther back in the graveyard, the older the dates seemed to get.

"Found them!" Harry finally said, though he lacked most of the enthusiasm he'd exuded when they were making plans to come here. He'd sunk to his knees, and stared unblinkingly at the white marble headstones. Hermione took his hand, but he didn't look at her. He squeezed it back and seemed to be trying to deal with the emotions of actually being here, after all these years. They hadn't brought anything to leave on the grave, and she thought they deserved one. They were already dead, but intent went a long way with magic.

Easily, Hermione conjured a thick wreath, covered in little roses. They were only buds, Hermione thought of Professor McGonagall, who would have criticized her for it, but congratulated Neville for the same work. Not equal, but definitely fair, though most things in life were neither equal nor fair. She handed the wreath to Harry, who placed it on the headstone, between his parents names. The snow, still falling, started to dot the green and red of the wreath as Harry got to his feet and they made their way back to the gate.


	21. Ride

Hermione had intended on returning to Hogwarts, before McGonagall had offered the "eighth year" class and before Kingsley had offered full NEWTs to anyone in DA who participated. She wasn't going back to hide from the reporters who wanted an inside scoop from one third of the "Golden Trio" as the media dubbed them. She wasn't going back to avoid Molly's insistent and awkward attempts at match making, between Hermione and her youngest son. She wasn't even going back for her NEWTs, though that was the reason she told everyone.

She was going back to Hogwarts in the hope, somewhere in its halls, normalcy was waiting for her. McGonagall had offered to let Hermione use the Floo in the headmaster's office, if she wanted to avoid stares and questions from the students on the train. Hermione had refused her offer, though it had taken her a while to decide that she wanted to be on the train again.

Platform 9 ¾ had been busy, as it always was on September 1st. Hermione tried not to fidget too much, and tried not to listen to the alarm bells that went off in her head when a boy, a wizard, by the owl in it's cage among his things, had bumped into her. She hadn't heard the apology he'd offered, and she'd run towards the wall before he could realize who she was, and ask for her autograph.

She was earlier than she remembered ever getting to King's Cross, though dealing with all of the Weasley boys, Ginny, Harry and herself had always been a bit of a challenge. It was easy to find a compartment to herself, where she decided any person from her year would be welcome to sit, even if it was Malfoy. She left the door open, and was glad to see Neville come by not too much later.

"Hey! I didn't know you were coming back too!" she said happily, before she pulled him into a hug. He stowed his trunk and sat across from her.

"Gran didn't want me to come back, but I needed to. I couldn't let it end like that, you know?" Hermione nodded and was momentarily distracted when she caught a bit of red hair out of the corner of her eye.

"There you are!" Ginny said, as she poked her head into the compartment. "You missed Ron and Harry on the platform. They came to see me off."

By the time 11 o'clock hit and the train started to move, the compartment Hermione claimed was full of loud conversation and cheer. Hannah sat on Neville's nap and blushed a bit while she braided Susan's hair. Susan was in a deep conversation with Padma Patil. Blaise Zabini was the only Slytherin who'd agreed to join them, and he was arguing Quidditch strategies with Ginny. Hermione was too happy to sink herself into one of her new textbooks, but Ginny quickly had it out of her hand.

"Nuh uh, you have the whole year to study. If you're going to learn magic, then I'm going to teach you some hair charms,: Ginny insisted.

"She could certainly use them," Zabini said. He acted like he'd said it under his breath, but he hadn't bothered to actually lower his voice. Hermione couldn't help but smile a bit.

"Do you know any hair charms, Zabini?" Hermione teased.

"Course I do. Looking this pretty doesn't come easy," he said, as though it were common knowledge. Perhaps Hermione had made a good decision in taking the train ride to school.


	22. Castle

Once she decided she was going back to Hogwarts to finish her schooling properly, Hermione decided off the bat she wanted a project. Something to devote her free time to, where it had gone to the trouble that always seemed to attracted to Harry. It hadn't taken long to come up with an idea, a good one at that. She'd likely need help with it, though.

It had been easy to convince Harry to let her take the Marauder's map to school with her. It was far more useful for Hermione, actually being at the school, and it was no longer the closest he could get to seeing Ginny. Hermione packed it away, safely in her trunk, along with a small stack of books Professor Lupin- Remus, had once talked about. She wasn't sure the answers she sought were in those pages, but she'd find out.

Two weeks into the semester, Hermione sat on the end of Ginny's bed with a book in her lap. Ginny had a Quidditch magazine in her hands, and Hermione couldn't tell if it was truly for the sport, or the good looking wizards and witches who played.

"Want to help me with something?" Hermione asked, without preamble.

"Maybe," Ginny replied. She laid down her magazine to give her friend her full attention. It was definitely showcasing the players, with a rather built man in Wimborne Wasp robes with a scandalous number of buttons undone. "It depends on what I'd be doing."

"Well, I'm going to try to add something on to the Marauder's map," Hermione finally told her. Ginny's eyes lit up and a smile broke out on her face.

"Where? The Room of Requirement?" Ginny asked.

"I thought of that first, but it turns out it's really Unplottable. I thought I could get around it, given Hogwarts is supposed to be Unplottable, and the map somehow exists anyways, but all my attempts haven't worked," Hermione explained. "I think it has to do with the nature of the room itself. I was thinking of adding something else."

Ginny considered her for a minute, brow furrowed, to place exactly what wasn't on the map. After a moment, she paled, and her mouth dropped open.

"No. I can't. I can't go down there again," Ginny said, as she shook her head back and forth. Panic seemed to continue to rise, as the back of her neck started to flush. Hermione reached forward and put a hand on Ginny's arm.

"He's dead. He can't hurt you anymore," Hermione told her in a gentle voice. "Harry killed don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

Hermione let the subject dropped, though she continued to research the spells needed to alter the map. There was no way she could push Ginny into helping, but that didn't mean Hermione had to give up her project.

Finally the day came when Hermione was ready to visit the Chamber, and run a few tests. The corridor with that specific bathroom was empty, as it always was. Myrtle seemed to be away, though, probably bothering people in the Prefect's bathroom. Hermione leaned over the sink with the snake fixture, and tried to repeat the hisses Ron had used during the battle. She tried once, twice, and a third time, and nothing happened. She frowned, and wondered slightly if she'd need Harry's direct help with her project. She had intended for it to be a surprise for him, but if it was the only way to get it done, so be it.

She was just about ready to head back to Gryffindor Tower when the door to the girl's bathroom opened again, and Ginny stepped through the door.

"Having trouble?" the redhead asked, and Hermione nodded. Ginny went over to the same sink and leaned forward, just as Hermione had done. Instead of stilted and choked whispers that had come from Hermione, a short series of fluid and almost melodic hisses came from Ginny's lips. Hermione's eyes went wide.

"How did you do that?"

"Whatever Riddle's diary put into me, his soul, or whatever, never completely left." Ginny's face was neutral, but her voice was a little shaky. Hermione took Ginny's hand.

"It'll be okay," Hermione said softly.

"I know."


	23. Empty

Hermione's childhood home had never been as loud as the Gryffindor common room, or as busy as the Burrow. Both of her parents ran a very successful practice and so there were often nights where at least one of her parents was at the office, and the other was in their shared study doing paperwork. She got used to entertaining herself from a very young age. It also made it exceptionally easy to hide her little bits of accidental magic from them.

Not that she had known it was magic at the time, Hermione thought, not without a little bit of bitterness. She waved her wand one last time, and her image disappeared from a picture of her sixth birthday, leaving only her parents smiling up at her. A part of her wished it moved, like the ones at Hogwarts, but a larger part of her appreciated that they didn't. Once she'd removed any trace of herself from the pictures on the walls, she quietly padded into the sitting room where her parents were reading.

"Hermione, is that you?" her mother called back, half turning to see her daughter. It was the only thing to break the silence. Hermione didn't bother to hide her wand. She was almost eighteen, and could legally practice magic at home.

"Yes, mum," Hermione replied. She tried with all her might not to let her voice shake. "I was going to wash up the dishes from dinner. Mrs. Weasley taught me a spell last summer."

"That's nice, darling," her father replied. They both continued to focus on the books in front of them, and tears started to leak from the corners of Hermione's eyes. She cast a Disillusionment on herself, and hoped it would be enough to keep them from seeing her.

" _Obliviate_ ," Hermione whispered. Her mother looked up at her, as though to ask what her daughter had said, but the memory charm hit her before she could say anything. Once the spell hit, the effects were immediate. Her parents started animatedly discussing plans to move to Australia.

Hermione slipped from the hallways, back to what had been her room. It was for their own good, right? It had to be the right decision. The risk of Death Eaters targeting them was too high. Hermione tried to quietly choke back her tears, and against her better judgement, she stayed around the house for the next few days, as she watched her parents pack quickly. Sooner than she would have liked, they got in a cab and left for the airport.

With that, the house was quieter and emptier than Hermione had ever remembered this home being. Tears didn't come, not after three days of crying, and she felt almost suffocated by just the sheer emptiness.

Only twenty minutes after her parents left, she heard a faint tapping on the kitchen window. Almost muscle memory at this point, she threw open the window and let Pig into the house, swooping high against the ceiling before settling on her hand. The little owl was as excitable as her, and Hermione gave it one of the large owl nuts she normally saved for Hedwig. While Pig was busy with it's treat, she untied the note from it's leg and read the note.

An official invitation to Bill and Fleur's wedding, with a handwritten note from Ron enclosed. For the first time in days, a small smile formed on Hermione's lips, and after she made sure to set Pig back on his way, she disapparated for the chaos of the Burrow.


	24. Longing

Hermione rolled her eyes and mimed vomiting behind Ron's back as he interacted with Lavender. Ginny let out a loud giggle and Lavender turned sharply to glare at Hermione, who was standing as though she hadn't been mocking the pair only a few seconds ago. Hermione merely smiled at her blandly, and joined Ginny at the writing desks near the common room windows.

"Can you believe her?" Ginny said as Hermione joined her. "She almost as bad as Phlegm."

"I'm just trying to ignore them," Hermione said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I can't believe I was going to invite him to Slughorn's party."

Ginny gave her a look, but didn't ask. Hermione had never been one for long talks about boys and romance; she kept her feelings close to her chest. The only time Hermione had ever really talked about her romantic inclinations was after the Yule Ball two years ago. Ginny wasn't sure if her friend's feelings had changed at all.

"So who are you taking?" Ginny asked after a moment. Hermione looked up from the book in front of her, her eyes wide open.

"Sorry, um, I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it, after that." Hermione's eyes darted over to the couple now snuggled together on the couch in front of the fire, looking as if they were trying to eat each other's faces. She crinkled up her nose in disgust. "Remind me to avoid that particular seat in the future."

"You want to make him jealous?" Ginny asked, after a snort of laughter. "McLaggan's been asking after you quite a bit." Hermione didn't respond at first, but her eyes didn't return to the page in front of her.

"I suppose that's an option," the brunette said in a quiet voice. Her mouth turned into a solid frown quickly and she looked as though the common room smelled of sour milk. "Actually, never mind. He's been a creep at Slug Club meetings, and I can't image a date would improve that situation."

"Fair point. Maybe ask Neville? Slughorn ignores him, because he's not taking Advanced Potions, but you know he deserves to be recognised," Ginny suggested. It also didn't hurt that he still had a tiny crush on Hermione, though no one besides Ginny and Luna knew that.

"Would that really be fair, though? It's one thing to use McLaggan like that, but Neville? He's actually my friend," Hermione responded. Her face had lost the sour milk smell look, and she actually seemed to be thinking about it.

"Then ask him as a friend. He knows as well as any of us that Ron's being a prat. Even more so, probably, since he has to live with his great pratness," Ginny justified. Hermione wavered for a moment longer, likely listing the positives and negatives in her mind. After a moment, she glanced towards the table where Neville was sitting with Colin Creevy, a Herbology book between them. She smiled when she realized he was helping Dennis with his OWL studies.

"You're right. I'd have more fun going with Neville than almost anyone else," Hermione said. She didn't look over at the couch again, but Ginny could tell she was still thinking about it. "I might as well ask him now."

Ginny smiled, as her friend got up from the table and went over to the two studying boys. For now, Hermione was still hung up on Ron, but she wouldn't be forever.


	25. Waiting

Hermione had become excellent at pasting a real-enough looking smile on her face for the entirety of her shift. She certainly hadn't seen herself waiting tables to support herself, but she had never been one to back down from a challenge. When the last customer was out the door, forty minutes after The Leaky Cup was supposed to close, Hermione let the fake smile fall as she did the last bits of necessary work.

"You okay, Hermione?" Hermione didn't have to look up to know that Hannah had said it. The bright yellow blonde woman was the owner's daughter, and thankfully a really good waitress. She was a lot more energetic and bubbly than Hermione normally had patience for, especially after a double, but she didn't slow her work simply to talk, so Hermione never felt the need to complain.

"Yeah," Hermione sighed as she picked through the rags under the drink station for a clean one. "Lots of kids today. You'd think people wouldn't bring their toddlers to a pub."

"I know. Finish bussing the last table, and wipe down the rest, and I'll take care of the bar, yeah?" Hermione nodded in affirmation, and went through her tasks quickly. The last table, besides staying later than Hermione was happy with, had been at least neat. She cleared the glasses and plates easily, and hurried them back to the dish washer. Thankfully she didn't have to wash them by hand, only made sure they made it into the machine.

After that, wiping the tables was quick work, though a few were a little stickier than they should have been, if some of the day shift servers had done their job right. She lightly complained with Hannah, as the blonde did the side work at the bar. Despite her overly bubbly demeanor, Hermione felt a little bit better complaining with her, and it passed the time until they were ready to leave.

Hermione shrugged her coat onto her shoulders as Hannah was already at the door. She looked out the window as she waited for Hermione to reach the door before she unlocked it.

"Oh! Neville came to pick me up," she said, her cheery voice picked up half an octave. Hermione put a smile on her face. Not a work smile, but it wasn't a real smile either.

"That's sweet of him. Have you guys picked a date yet?" Hermione asked, conversationally. Hannah sighed a little dramatically.

"Not yet. We're waiting until Neville's done with his education program," Hannah told her as she unlocked the door, and then locked it again behind them. She prattled on a few more details Hermione didn't really listen to.

Hermione extracted herself from the conversation politely, and offered a wave to the man in the driver's seat of a running car twenty feet away. She turned towards where her own car was parked and nearly yelped in surprise. At first, she didn't recognise the figure leaning against her car, but she quickly recognised the bright red hair.

"Ginny!" Hermione smiled properly for the first time that day, and hurried over and kissed the girl. "You didn't need to wait for me."

"I had to make sure you were doing okay," Ginny said. "You didn't need to work so soon after your parent's-"

"I did. I always feel better throwing myself into work, you know that," Hermione told her. Ginny looked at her with a frown, but didn't argue.

"Well mum was being a pain, and I had to get out. I can stay with you tonight, yeah?" Ginny asked. Her frown turned into an adorable pout, and Hermione didn't have it in her to say no.

"Yeah, I think I can allow that."


	26. Sing

**(This one is based on Aca-demic Arrangements by . , which is adorable and awful and amazing all at once, plus it features my favorite pairing, Tomione. This chapter is Tomione trash.)**

Hermione couldn't hold back a giggle as her hands blocked Tom's vision. He was clearly getting restless with waiting and anticipation. He tried to evade her hands, as she lead him through the house.

"Hey! Stop trying to peek," Hermione scolded, and Tom didn't look particularly apologetic.

"Where are you taking me? Are we even in the house?" he complained. Hermione laughed again, and took away her hands with a flourish. He couldn't stop his mouth from falling open. Fairy lights were strung around the wooden fence around the perimeter of the backyard, while the patio table was covered in dishes and candles. He turned to look at her, and she wore a dark red dress that hugged her curves in just the right ways. He shoved away the thought that Abraxas must have bought it for her.

"This is...amazing. Did you do all this?" he asked, finally able to compose himself.

"Well, Blaise might have helped me with the actual cooking part," she told him. "I put this all together for you, though. We should eat before it gets cold."

They sat at the table, proper dining room chairs, instead of the plastic patio chairs, and music started to play quietly out of a stereo off to one side of the back porch.

"Any other surprises?" he asked, giving her a look, though with a smile.

"I might have one or two things in the works," she told him. "Though I think the biggest surprise is that Blaise can cook."

They ate dinner, and as they finished, Tom was ready to lead her inside, but she held on to his hand firmly. She pulled him towards the yard, and he reluctantly allowed it. The grass was still damp from the morning's drizzle, and Hermione wasn't wearing allowed her to pull him into a sort of waltzing position. They could barely hear the music, but Tom took the lead and danced with her. It wasn't exactly a waltz, but they were both far too talented to merely spin in place, like awkward teenagers at a prom. She opened her mouth, and he expected some witticism, but instead she sang.

" _Oh don't you dare look back. Just keep your eyes on me,"_ she began, and a shiver ran through Tom's spine. Her voice was as beautiful as the first time he heard it. So this was her next surprise.

" _I said, 'You're holding back,'"_ he added, and her eyes lit up. " _She said-"_

" _Shut up and dance with me!"_ she continued, as they danced in circles on the grass.

" _This woman is my destiny. She said, Ooh-hoo,"_

" _Shut up and dance with,"_ They sang together. Tom lead her into a spin, and Hermione laughed. The noise went straight to his heart, and he didn't mind the pang. She was doing this for him.

They went through the whole song, singing, dancing and laughing. When they'd finished, Hermione laid her head against his chest, a little out of breath, but smiling wide. Tom brought a hand up to her neck, and cradled her gently.

"Perhaps I should convince the others to add this to a set," Tom finally said. "Maybe with a bit of a guest role?" Hermione looked up at him, still a little red in the face.

"Oh, no, no. It's one thing if we're just messing around in The Chamber, or having a bit of fun on our own, but I don't, I can't do this in public," she told him. She started to frown, and Tom couldn't have that. He sighed lightly, and pulled her to him in a tight hug. She wrapped her arms around his waist as well. He kissed the top of her head.

"Pansy would be so jealous if she knew," Tom said, unable to keep from smiling once the thought hit him. Hermione snorted out a laugh as well.

"I really don't want to think about what Pansy would do to experience what we just did," Hermione added.

"Come on, why don't we go inside. We can clean up later," he offered.

"Or we can convince Marcus to do it," she countered.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you," he said. He led her inside, up into his bedroom. He supposed it was a good time to give her something.


	27. Silence

With a little more force than was strictly necessary, Hermione wiped away the fat tears that had started to gather in her eyes. She tried to will away the tears, but that only made them worse.

"Can you at least say something? Anything?" she spat out, and when Ron didn't respond, it didn't help her composure any. She burst into a quiet sob.

"It will be okay," Ron finally managed. "We can get through this." Hermione dropped her head into her hands and continued to cry.

"I think- I'm giving up," Hermione said quietly, as clearly as she could through her intense need to cry. Ron tried to push his hand through her hair, as he'd done countless times since they started dating, since their first kiss during that fateful battle at Hogwarts. Hermione jerked away from his touch, and he slowly lowered his hand. He looked at her like a wounded puppy, but Hermione didn't notice through her tears.

"Can you really say that?" he snapped. Hermione couldn't bare to look up from her hands to see the anger in his voice etched on his face. "I'd have gone anywhere to be at your side."

"I can't do this," she declared. She tried to disappear into the bathroom, but Ron caught her arm.

"Just say something," he softly pleaded. "Do you really want to go?" Hermione's heart dropped, and she couldn't bring herself to form the word on her lips. She hated that she was just as silent as Ron had been.

Ron stayed silent too, slowly and lowered his hand away from her arm, and stepped back. Hermione still couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes. He deserved better than this, but that was why she had to do this. He deserved to be properly happy.

"I love you, Hermione. That has to count for something," Ron insisted. "We can work whatever is getting to you."

"I love you too, but I don't think- we just don't work together well as a couple," Hermione told him. "Aren't you tired of fighting? Of our cycle of breaking up and getting back together?"

"Is that what's bothering you?" he asked. He pulled her into a tight hug, and for the first time since they'd started arguing that night, she let him touch her. She didn't return the gesture, but she laid her head against his chest.

"I think we're better as friends," Hermione whispered. "We're just too different."

There was a long pause, and Hermione had stopped crying, for the most part.

"It's true, isn't it?" Ron broke the silence, quietly, almost breathlessly. "We don't work in a relationship, do we?"

Hermione didn't respond, but she didn't really need to anymore. After another long moment, Ron let her out of his hug, and stepped back. Hermione finally looked him in the eyes. There was no trace of the anger that was there earlier, only sadness and a bit of understanding. Soon after, Ron left her flat, and Hermione sat in the couch in her living room in silence.


	28. Entwined

Hermione was early, because of course she was. She was always early to everything, including group trips to the pub. She was sitting in the booth she, Ron and Harry normally sat in at the Leaky Cauldron, with a glass of red wine sitting on the table in front of her and a book in her hands. She looked up when she heard someone slide into the booth on the other side, expecting Harry.

"Oh," she said, when her eyes met Theodore Nott's. "Sorry, this booth is taken."

"I know. I was invited, Granger," he informed her. His eyes flickered down to her glass and the book in her hands. " _Understandings In Lycanthropy_?"

"It just came out," Hermione said, her eyes brightened with excitement for the subject. "There's been loads of new discoveries since the Werewolf Registration Act was struck down."

"I thought Professor Lupin, well, he's already gone," Nott said. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, and wondered if he simply had no manners.

"And that means I shouldn't care about any other werewolves, because I don't know them personally? It's called compassion, Nott," she said. She would have gone back to her book and pointedly ignored him, but another person, Ginny, had just opened the door to the pub from the Wizarding side. Nott stood as she came over to the table and gave her a hug. As Hermione watched the exchange, she realized Nott certainly had manners. He just refused to show her the respect of using them.

She heard an unspoken slur in her ear and, unconsciously, she started to scratch at her left forearm through her sleeve, and it felt like a pit developed in her abdomen. She got up before Ginny could slid into the booth, blocking her in.

"I should go," Hermione declared. "I have legislation I should be working on." Her excuse sounded lame, even to her own ears, but she felt panicked. She pushed past Ginny so fast she didn't notice Ginny glaring hard at Nott. He sighed, and grabbed her book where she'd left it on the table when she started nervously scratching her arm.

"Granger, you forgot-" he started to call after her, but she was already out the door. He glanced back at Ginny, whose expression told him on no uncertain terms that he should go after her. He sighed again, went through the door to muggle London and ran after her. He finally caught up to her a little out of breath and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Granger, you left your-" he got out before she turned around. She hadn't taken out her wand, not in muggle London, but her hand was on her holster on her right hip. He held up the book at her eye level. "You forgot your book."

The look of anger in her eyes didn't fade, but she took her hand off her wand. The book disappeared into the hand bag on her shoulder. She stared at him for a moment, as he took a step backwards and started to turn around.

"Why run after me?" She asked suddenly. "Why sully your hands for a mudblood?" Nott flinched hard at the slur, and turned around again.

"You shouldn't call yourself that," he said. He turned back to face her, and closed the distance between them. Her arm was still on her left sleeve, though she'd stopped scratching.

"Why shouldn't I?" There was no longer anger in her voice, but a breathless anxiety that he supposed few outside of the little Golden Trio ever heard. "Many people have made it abundantly clear that is what I am. It doesn't matter that no one says the word anymore. I'm still different, defective, because of my blood status."

Nott didn't seem to know how to respond to it. He didn't say anything, and Hermione didn't realized she'd started to scratch until he placed his hand over hers to stop it.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "Will you come back and have drinks with us? I didn't mean to, to make you feel that way."

His hand was still wrapped around her wrist, as though he was making a point with it, and Hermione dropped her gaze to it, and she realized his point was necessary.

"Sure," she finally said. She let go of where she'd been scratching, and his hand went from her wrist to her palm, and he entwined his fingers in hers. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."


	29. Hidden

Hermione breathed deeply and walked out towards the Quidditch pitch. Draco spotted her before Blaise did, and waved widely to her.

"Hermione! Come to join us for a fly?" he teased.

"No!" Hermione squared her shoulders and forced herself not to get off track. Did Draco pout there for a second? No, she had to stay on topic. "I actually wanted to talk to Blaise about something." She attempted a smile, and Draco's pout turned into an intense frown, his shoulders slumped a little.

"Oh, that's cool," the blond said. She approached the taller boy, but as she opened her mouth to speak, Blaise held up his hand.

"Draco, the lady asked for some privacy," Blaise said. Hermione tried to protest, as there was no reason Draco should be specifically excluded, but Blaise didn't bother to listen.

Draco glared at Blaise from where he was fiddling with a Quaffle, some five feet away, and didn't move. Blaise rolled his eyes.

"We'll talk in the stands, yeah?" he said, as he grabbed Hermione's hand and lead her towards the stands. She noticed a smirk on his face, but chose not to comment on it. She glanced back at Draco, who had taken the Quaffle up in the air with him, and was glaring at them and sneering.

"What's wrong with him?" Hermione asked. She took a seat next to Blaise.

"Oh, nothing. So what did you want to talk about?"

"I've noticed Theo's been looking… sad lately, and I'm beginning to think that something's wrong. I just have no idea what," she explained.

"You know Theo is gay, right? Like mega gay."

"Yes, I am aware of his sexual orientation. I also know it doesn't stop me from being his friend. I thought, since you're his best friend-"

"I'm what? I'm not his best friend. That's Daphne."

"You're not?" Hermione frowned. "But you might at least know what's up?"

"Nope! To be honest, I don't think he even tells Daph about any of that kind of stuff."

"But, he has to confide in someone."

"I really don't think so. He's a Slytherin. He probably keeps it in like the rest of us."

Hermione sighed, and neglected to voice her opinion of Slytherin coping mechanisms, though his statement likely wasn't far from the truth.

"You sure you don't know anything that might help?" she tried, one last time.

Blaise looked thoughtful for a moment, and let his gaze drift back to the pitch. In the stilled silence, she followed his gaze to where Draco was taking shots at the hoops with the quaffle. Each time he turned to retrieve it, he glared at Blaise. Draco noticed my staring and turned away.

"Well," Blaise finally said. "I don't think I can be of much help, but I can keep an eye on him."

"So there's nothing I can do?" Hermione let out a sigh.

"Why don't you try talking to Daphne? She might be a bigger help," he offered. Hermione nodded and tried not to grimace. Pansy and Daphne had teased her for years.

"I'll give it a shot. Thanks Blaise."

"No worries!" He said. He glanced over the pitch again, and then leaned in towards Hermione His face was close to hers, so their noses almost touched. He grinned.

We'll figure out what's bothering him and help. Don't worry too much about it," he whispered. A deep blush colored Hermione's face a bright pink. He leaned back again smirked at her reaction. He glanced across the pitch yet again and burst out laughing. Draco was hovering not too far away, though clearly out of earshot, as he was yelling, and Hermione couldn't understand what he was saying.

"Don't worry. I'm not gonna-" Blaise started to yell back, but stopped as the quaffle that hand been in Draco's hands hit Blaise square in the face.

"Oh my god! Blaise!" Hermione exclaimed. Draco flew over in a panic.

"I didn't mean to actually hurt you!" Blaise coughed, but otherwise looked okay.

"Why the hell would you do that?" Blaise spat out.

"You- you know exactly why," Draco said. "You were the only person I told about that."

"I was just messing around with you." Blaise took the quaffle and threw it at Draco's face in a smooth motion and it connected.

"Please stop hurting each other!" Hermione cried, but both boys were laughing.

"That's it. We'll settle this in battle!" Draco exclaimed.

Draco took off with the Quaffle tucked under his arm and Blaise summoned his broom from the field below , both completely forgetting about Hermione. She sighed and made her way back inside the castle. Slytherins were absolutely insane.


	30. Drink

"We should not be doing this. We should not be doing this," Hermione said, in a low voice, practically chanting. She repeated the words, and fidgeted with the handle of the basket of food Ginny had shoved into her hands. Despite her words, she didn't stop her friends from getting things together for their planned excursion.

"It'll be okay, Hermione," Fred told her. "We all just need time away from that hag." Each of the fifth year Gryffindors, plus Lee, George, made a noise of agreement, but Hermione barely heard them. She was far too concerned about losing the shiny, silver prefect badge pinned to her shirt. Fred took her hand, partially to keep her from ruining the basket handle, and partially to drag her along when the small mass of people started to move.

A snicker came from behind them and Hermione's head snapped around to see who had laughed. She flushed a little to see Lavender making an obscene gesture with her hands. Hermione took her hand out of Fred's and joined Harry and Ron as Lee led them to a spot he insisted was perfect. Harry smirked at her and, although there was no red hand gesture, his expression was every bit as teasing at Lavender's had been. Ron, however, was scowling at her. She sighed in exasperation and turned to Ginny.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Hermione asked, not for the first time.

No one really bothered to answer her though, which, she had to admit to herself, was probably for the best. Her anxieties had the bad habit of getting the better of her, and Fred was right. Professor Umbridge was over the top unreasonable. Her latest decree had forbidden students of opposite genders from being within six inches of each other. It made partnering with Neville in Potions a nightmare, beyond his normal fear of Snape, and helping Ron and Harry with homework in the library had almost earned her several detentions. Parvati and Lavender seemed to find the whole situation funny though.

Hermione had been blindly following her friends, when she realized they were stopped and already starting to set up. They weren't terribly far from the last of the greenhouses, but hidden by a crumbling brick wall along three sides. It'd likely been some sort of groundskeeping building ages ago. She handed the basket she'd brought to Dean, and he started to bring out the food Ginny had convinced the house elves to make for them.

"This is way too much food," Lavender said. "Did they realize we're not the whole of Gryffindor house?"

"I may have mentioned we were resisting Umbridge. Apparently, she'd making their lives hell too," Ginny told her, and took an apple tart from one of the plates. "We can always give it back, or set it out for the common room later."

Hermione let herself relax a bit, and accepted a butterbeer from Neville and one of the pumpkin pasties from a plate being passed around. Everyone seemed so much more at ease than they had been in months. Ginny and Dean were discussing a recent Puddlemere match, and Neville was flourishing his wand next to Ron, who was showing him some useful charm.

"I brought a little something extra," Lee declared proudly, and produced a bottle of fire whiskey. Hermione decided not to scold Parvati for reaching to take the first swig of alcohol, nor any of her friends, as the bottle got passed around. Finally Fred pushed it into Hermione's hands.

"Have some. You deserve a break," he encouraged. Hermione looked at the bottle carefully. This broke a _real_ school rule.

"Come on, Hermione. You helped found an illegal, underground club. You can take one drink," Ron added. She frowned at him, but lifted the bottle to her lips. The liquid burned less than she expected, slightly sweet at that. She swallowed it quickly though, and she finally felt the burn she expected as it went down her throat. She passed the bottle to Ginny, who also took a healthy swig.

Her friends were terrible influences, but each of them would, and could, lay down their lives for each other. There's no way she would change that for the world.


	31. Embrace

Hermione had hoped retreating to her dorm room would be a reprieve from her House's general sense of pratish-ness, at least for a few hours. Harry still poured over his defaced Potions book, and Ron still spent all of his time sucking face with Lavender. Even Ginny seemed to be spending all of her time either with Dean or out of Gryffindor Tower with Luna.

However, she only had a few minutes of peaceful reading before she heard Parvati and Lavender chatting their way up the stairs. She vaguely heard them talking about Slughorn's party in a few weeks. Hermione sighed loudly and started to move from her desk to her bed, but the girls entered the dormitory before Hermione could properly close the curtains on her bed.

"Oh, I didn't realize you were here," Lavender said. There was a little more than a hint of a sneer in her voice. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Maybe you'd notice more if weren't attached to Ronald by the lips," Hermione told her, her own voice thick with bitterness. Parvati, behind Lavender, silently smirked. It appeared everyone in Gryffindor Tower was tired of the couple's antics.

"You're just jealous," Lavender declared. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stood a bit taller. "It's not surprising Ron chose me over you.

Anger threatened to bubbled up from Hermione's chest to her mouth, but the knowledge she had to live with Lavender for at least a year and a half more kept her from snapping. Still, a little bit leaked through, and she couldn't stop herself from snapping back.

"That was the point. He went with you to make me jealous," Hermione told her. "And it worked, alright? I was really jealous."

Lavender's face fell, and Parvati looked at Hermione with a glare. Hermione couldn't blame the darker girl. Annoyed as Hermione was with Ron, she would still defend him when it mattered, and she couldn't bring herself blame Parvati for doing the same with her own best friend. A small guilt started to form in the pit of Hermione's stomach, even though she'd held back the worst of her anger. Hermione closed the book, still in her hands, and gave the girls her full attention. She really couldn't afford to screw this up.

"I'm not anymore," Hermione told her. "I think, well, you're probably a better match for Ron than I am." It wasn't entirely the truth, as Hermione was still in the process of getting over the boy, but it was true enough. They still looked at her distrustfully. Hermione placed her book on her desk.

"I'm not making fun of you. I enjoy quiet, reading and libraries. You actually understand Quidditch, and enjoy watching the matches," Hermione rattled out an example. "Ron and I are way better off as friends."

Lavender was the first to soften. She came over and sat on the edge of Hermione's bed and fiddled her fingers a little.

"Did Ron really start dating me to make you jealous?" the blonde asked. The level of insecurity in her voice was completely uncharacteristic for the girl. Hermione grimaced.

"I might be wrong, it just my guess, really. Ron and I haven't really spoken since the Quidditch match," Hermione told her. "It might also be Ginny's teasing. You know how Ron is about his insecurities."

Lavender frowned and shook her head. "I guess I don't. We don't really talk much." Parvati also came over and sat on the bed. She patted her friend on the shoulder.

"Well, Ginny teased him, when he got on her case about Dean. She said he was being harsh before he'd never even kissed anyone," Hermione explained.

"I'm Ron's first kiss?" Lavender said, her eyes lit up.

"That's so romantic!" Parvati added, in an excited squeal. Hermione barely fought the urge to roll her eyes at their ability to miss the point. She supposed if it caused Lavender to stop trying to swallow Ron's face, it would be worth it. Hermione smiled, instead, and let the girls coo over their relationships, and boys in general.

"You should come with us to Hogsmeade this weekend," Parvati offered. "I need a dress for Slughorn's party."

"I suppose I need one too. We can make a girls' day of it," Hermione suggested. "Are both of you going to the party?"

"Well, I'm going. Ernie asked me yesterday," Parvati answered. Lavender frowned and looks towards the window.

"Ginny says Slug Club meetings are terrible, anyways," Lavender said, with only a little bitterness. Hermione didn't think Lavender had ever been left out of a party, perhaps that was the problem? Parvati gave her friend a sympathetic look.

"Neither Ron or Lavender were invited," Parvati told her. "And Lavender really wanted to meet one of the guests Slughorn is bringing in."

"Janine Verillis is only the top of Witch Weekly's list of upcoming robe designer," Lavender supplied, even though Hermione hadn't asked. "I'd love to work at her studio after graduation."

"Well, I had been planning on saying yes to Cormac," Hermione lied. She had considered accepting his invitation, if only to get back at Ron for making her jealous. "Maybe I could convince him to help us get you and Ron in. It'll be much more fun with more of us."

Lavender's face lit up again, and threw her arms around Hermione, who awkwardly patted the blonde back.

"Let's go ask him now!"

Perhaps they weren't really friends yet, and maybe they'd never be proper friends, but it was closer to friends than Hermione had ever been with either girl.


	32. Cold

Back in September, Hermione wanted desperately to go back to Hogwarts and finished her NEWTs. Even after Professor McGonagall had explained it wasn't _fair_ to the incoming seventh year class to make her Head Girl.

"I can't show favoritism. I'm sure you understand," the older witch had said. Despite her kind tone, it had hurt. Even so, it was better than hanging around the Burrow and pretending she wasn't going stir crazy.

Of course, that had been back in September. Now, on December 24th, she wanted more than anything to be with her parents. Even though they didn't remember, they would never remember, she wanted to be near them. She'd signed up to remain at the castle for Christmas, despite Molly's insistent invitation, with an excuse for NEWTs prep. It was best that she didn't have to deal with the matriarch's awkward attempts to play matchmaker for her and Ron. Staying had been the best of a series of bad situations, and it didn't make it easy to go to the Great Hall for dinner, where few students, fewer Gryffindors, and only one "8th year" student remained. At least it wasn't Draco.

That was how, and why, Hermione found herself leaning on the balcony where Astronomy classes were normally held. She wasn't crying to herself, despite tears swimming barely under the surface of her eyes. The stars had never held her interest like some of the other students in her class, but the night sky would be the same whether she was at the castle, or her childhood home, or when she took midnight watch last year.

"You'll catch a cold if you stay out here too long," a voice behind her said, startling her. She jumped and turned around, wand drawn. She didn't lower it when she realized it was Theodore Nott.

"Warming Charms are handy on cold nights. I became good at them last year during my camping trip. I became quite good at a lot of magic." Her voice was steady and she hoped it sounded as threatening as she intended.

She frowned when he rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Granger. I'm just making sure you're not going to pitch yourself off the Tower." His words surprised her enough to give her pause, enough to let her lower her wand. It was still tight in her grip, pointed at the stone floor.

"I guess it's not really out of the realm of possibilities for me, but I hadn't really thought about it," she admitted, and barked out a short, dark laugh.

"Or filled a roll of parchment with the pro and cons list?" He'd had a teasing tone, but in only a little more than a blink, Hermione had crossed the distance between them and had her wand at his throat.

"Slipped up there. Nott doesn't know me nearly that well," she growled. "Who are you?"

"You really think I didn't know that about you? We've been classmates for seven years, and pretty much every class together for the last, for sixth and seventh years." Her expression softened, but she didn't lower her wand.

"Why should I trust you?"

"You don't have to trust me. Not completely, at least. Just that I'm not going to hex you."

She lowered her wand again, but didn't put it away. She backed away from him and sank to her knees. Theo expected her to cry or yell, as Draco would, but she didn't.

"I think they broke me," she said, in an emotionless whisper almost too quiet for Theo to hear. He moved and sat next to her. He took her free hand and gripped it, not really hard, but with a definite firmness.

He didn't know what to say; he never did for Draco. Blaise, Pansy, Daphne, his other Slytherin classmates were easier to deal with. They'd had the same experience he'd had; keep your head down, fake your curses, refuse to fight against their parents and friends. Hermione was in a wholly different class, even beyond Draco's demons.

"I was tortured," she told him, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Bellatrix never broke me. I lied to her, even under Cruciatus. I think it was the camping and paranoia that broke me, changed me for the worse."

Theo tried to protest, but Hermione shushed him.

"It's all I can do not to pull my wand at every little noise. Sometimes I can't help it, and I scare the first years. I have a second cauldron set up constantly brewing Calming Draught. Slughorn's waving my seventh year Potion's project because I've been supplying the infirmary with the extra."

"I-" he started, but he got the feeling she wouldn't react well to pity. "I don't know that I really understand, or that I ever will, but I'll do anything I can to help."

Hermione didn't respond. Her eyes looked blank and she shook her hand out of his. He wasn't eager to let go, but he wasn't sure he had a right to keep her. She rose, and jumped up with her. She started to turn towards the balcony again. Panic rose in his throat and he threw his arms around her.

He'd expected her to hiss, protest and push him away, but instead she melted. Almost immediately, a deep sob bubbled up from the back of her throat, and she started to cry into his shoulder. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his waist and just let herself lean on him. For the next ten minutes, he didn't move or say anything, as she hiccuped, coughed, gasped, and cried.

"Hermione?" He finally said, cautiously. "Your Warming Charm is wearing off. Let's head inside."

She looked up at him with bloodshot, puffy eyes, and blotchy red cheeks. Still, he thought she was beautiful.

"Sure," she replied in a hoarse, raspy voice.

Later that night, while they were curled up in his bed in the spare Slytherin dorm, Hermione sneezed and Theo couldn't stop his smirk.

"I told you that you'd catch a cold."


	33. Warmth

Hermione laid in bed up in her dormitory, but sleep didn't, couldn't come. The fires that kept Gryffindor Tower warm in the winter and early spring left the early June air stuffy and suffocating. Hermione felt like she had to struggle to breathe and it only got more and more difficult as the minutes ticked by.

She curled her hand around her wand under her pillow. After the Battle in the Astronomy Tower, she didn't feel safe unless her wand was within reach at all times. She sat up, bringing her wand with her, as she went to the large window between her bed and Fae's and pushed at the glass. Fresh air rushed the room, and though Hermione took a deep breathe, it wasn't as helpful as she hoped it would be. She settled on the thick sill, as it was better than nothing, and just looked out the window.

Her eyes were drawn easily to the white marble headstone that had been placed that day. It seemed to give off its own light, as even in the pitched darkness, Hermione could easily see the stone from up in the Tower.

She bit her lip as an idea started to form in her head. It was far too late to ask Harry for the cloak and the map, but she couldn't escape the growing desire to get out, onto the grounds. She ignored the part of her that always panicked when the thought of breaking any rules came up. That part of her had gotten weaker and weaker over the years, since she'd made friends with Ron and Harry.

Against her better judgement, she held onto her wand and silently moved out of the dorm. She cast a Disillusionment, as well as a Silencing Charm, and pushed out of the portrait hole. Thankfully, the Fat Lady was asleep, and didn't question to movement. She wished she had the Marauder's Map, at least, as she made her way down to the Entrance Hall. Perhaps it was luck, or maybe grief that kept Hermione from being caught.

When she was out on the grounds, the cool night air hit her face, and a tension she hadn't realized had gathered in her shoulders completely relaxed. She felt distinctly better, but found herself at a loss for what to do. She didn't want to return to Gryffindor Tower just yet, so she figured she'd walk a little bit longer. She slowly padded towards Dumbledore's grave.

She jumped and raised her wand when she realized a tall figure was standing in front of the white marble. Recognition hit her and she breathed out in relief and whispered, louder than she'd intended, "Lupin!"

He spun around, brandishing his own wand. With a sharp jab of his wand, Hermione's charms fell away and Professor Lupin's shoulders sagged a little bit.

"You shouldn't be out here, Hermione," he said. "Can't sleep?"

The abrupt change from his 'teacher' voice to his 'friend' voice made Hermione want to smile. He didn't look happy, per se, but at least, maybe, relaxed?

"Gryffindor Tower was too stuffy. It was too-" Hermione paused. The exact word she was looking for completely escaped her.

"Claustrophobic?" he offered, and she nodded heavily.

"Exactly. I opened the window but it didn't really help," she told him. "I needed to get out."

"Sirius used to feel that way a lot." Lupin smiled. After a quiet moment, he laughed at an unspoken memory.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Hermione asked.

"No, it's too close to the full moon. The wolf is- well, a bit restless," he explained. Hermione didn't really know what to say. They stood at the grave for a few minutes longer, and the chilly night started to make Hermione shiver. She hadn't bothered to bring a jumper, and only her thin nightgown guarded her from the chill.

"Come on," Lupin finally said. "I'll escort you back to the Tower."

Hermione didn't argue. She had finally started to feel tired.


	34. Kindness

Hermione absolutely hated crying. She'd cried a fair bit at her old, muggle school, and she thought Hogwarts would be different. It wasn't, though. Everything, _everything_ was exactly the same. The subjects were so much more interesting than the maths and literature she had studied in primary school, but the kids were just like her old classmates had been.

They had teased her about her hair, her teeth and her study habits. Perhaps she could handle it better, at least as well as she had in primary, if it was just that, but there was more. Thankfully no one in her own House had said anything about it, even that awful Ron Weasley, but she was different from her classmates here too.

Pansy Parkinson had been the first one to use the slur. Hermione had felt offended before she really understood what it meant, and angry there was a whole culture she didn't understand. All her preparation before the school year began, and it hadn't meant _anything_.

That was why she had been crying in the girls' lavatory on Halloween, not Ron's offhanded insults. She would never fit in at Hogwarts, she realized, as she tried in vain to wipe away her tears. She had just started to plan on researching withdrawal procedure, when a girl came into the lavatory she'd been hiding in. She tried to keep her sniffles quiet, but it clearly didn't work.

"Hello?" the girl called into the room. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Hermione croaked out. The girl sighed heavily.

"It would be you, Granger," she said. "It's okay. You can come out and talk to me, if you'd like."

Hermione considered the offer and decided to just go with it. If the girl was planning on any sort of teasing, whether it was blunt or passive-aggressive, Hermione would be leaving soon anyways. She came out of the stall, and tried to wipe away the worst of the mess on her face. The girl on the other side of the door was platinum blonde, Daphne Greengrass. She was one of Parkinson's friends in Slytherin.

"You're luck I'm not Pansy," Greengrass told her. She produced a soft, white handkerchief and handed to Hermione. 'She'd have a field day if she was the one to catch you crying."

"Thanks, I guess," Hermione replied. She wiped her face and blew her nose. Somehow, she felt a little better, as she cleaned it magically and handed it back to the blonde. Greengrass sighed again.

"Don't let Pansy get to you too much. Her mother is nothing but venom, so I'm pretty sure Pansy doesn't actually know what kindness is."

Hermione didn't quite know how to respond. She just shrugged and looked at her feet. Greengrass frowned at her and pulled out her wand. Hermione saw the motion and jumped back, fumbling for her own wand.

"Calm down. I'm going to teach you a hair charm. I don't know how to make it into ringlets, but I can show you how to make it not so-" she seemed to be searching for a word that wouldn't offend Hermione.

"Frizzy and awful?" Hermione offered, and both girls giggled. The blonde girl showed her the charm, and spent a few minutes with her after that, just talking.

"You can call me Daphne, if you want," she offered. "If I can call you Hermione."

Another few minutes, and the girls parted ways. Daphne went back to the Great Hall and Hermione made her way up to Gryffindor Tower. She settled in front of the fire with a book and a smile. An hour later, Harry and Ron came into the common room with a plate of food and an apology. They sat with her while she ate, all thoughts of withdrawing from Hogwarts banished from her mind.


	35. Hope

It was nearly noon, but the curtains around Hermione's bed were still pulled shut. Tears didn't fall, but she hugged a pillow tightly to her chest and hadn't even thought about getting up at all. It blocked the sunlight that streamed through the windows. How could it be so sunny and pleasant on this day?

"Hermione?" Ginny's gentle voice called into their dorm room. None of the other Gryffindor girls came back for the "eighth year" so Hermione had been put in with the normal seventh year dorm, leaving it a slight bit crowded.

"Yes Ginny," Hermione replied, after a long pause.

"News from Shell Cottage, Fleur had the baby," Ginny told her. Hermione jumped into a sitting position and pulled a curtain back. Excitement and worry were etched on her face.

"What? I thought she wasn't due for another two weeks," Hermione said at once. "Is the baby okay?"

"They had a healthy baby girl," Ginny cut her off from the beginning of her frenzied speech. "They're going to name her Victoire."

"Victoire? How French," Hermione said, and both girls giggled.

"She has Weasley hair, though," Ginny said with a wide smile. "I bet she takes after her Auntie Ginny."

"Of course she does," Hermione replied, with only a hint of teasing.

"McGonagall gave us permission to visit the Burrow tonight for the christening. That should be a fun party. Mum loves babies," Ginny rambled. Hermione grimaced a bit.

"I'm invited to something like that?" Hermione asked. "Even though Ron and I aren't, like, together? I'm not family."

"Of course you're family," Ginny insisted. "It doesn't matter whether you're dating Ron or not. You've been a part of the family for a long time."

"I- you know what today is," Hermione said, finally getting to what actually bothered her. Her shoulders relaxed, but Hermione was still tense and shaking. "I don't think I can deal with people today."

Ginny sighed and came over to sit on the edge of Hermione's bed. The redhead pulled Hermione into a hug.

"Everyone knows what today is. Everyone there will know, especially," Ginny told her. "You aren't alone."

Hermione broke down in tears, finally. Ginny just kept holding her. After a few minutes, Hermione's sobs turned to sniffles and hiccups. Ginny patted Hermione's back.

"I miss my parents," Hermione managed. She coughed, and continued. "This summer, I want to go see if I can fix their memories."

Ginny nodded, and waited exactly where she was until Hermione was ready to move.

"You want to stay here tonight?" Ginny asked, when Hermione lifted her head from the redhead's shoulder a few minutes later. "I'm sure no one would mind. They'd all understand."

"And miss seeing my adorable godson? As if," Hermione said, a teary smile finally formed on her face.

"Okay. We're taking the Floo in McGonagall's office at six," Ginny told her. "Need me to stick around?"

"Would you?"

"Of course."

Ginny curled her hand around Hermione's, and let Hermione lay back down. Instead of pulling the pillow back to her chest, Hermione moved closer to her friend, and put an arm around Ginny's waist. Ginny slowly and gently played with Hermione's hair as they just sat on Hermione's bed.


	36. Bright

Hermione was shaken awake. She groaned slightly, and creaked open her eyes. The room was still dark, and the first thing Hermione saw was Ginny's bright red hair lit by the light of a nearly full moon. She immediately closed her eyes again, and tried to not to fall back asleep at least at first.

"I saw something out on the grounds," Ginny told her, and Hermione had to fight not to turn over and ignore her friend. "I saw something fall from the sky. Come with me to check it out."

Hermione raised her hand and waved it lazily. "Someone probably fell off their broom. That's why curfew exists."

"Please, whatever it was, it was glowing!" Ginny told her. "I'd take Luna, but I can't get to Ravenclaw Tower now."

Hermione groaned again, but sat up. "Go see if you can borrow the Invisibility Cloak. I'm not getting a detention for this," she declared, and pulled on her shoes and a jumper while Ginny ran for the boys dorm. She moved slowly, and by the time Hermione made it down the stairs to the common room, Ginny was already waiting for her with the cloak draped over one arm and the Marauder's Map in her hand.

"Harry let you borrow both?" Hermione asked, slightly puzzled in her haze.

"Did you know he keeps them in the same place? Talk about irresponsible!" Ginny told her and Hermione shook her head.

"So where did you see this thing fall?" Hermione asked. Ginny threw the cloak over the both of them, and lead her out the portrait hole.

The castle was quiet, long after prefect rounds were over, and Filch seemed to be settled in his office. Ginny kept the map open and activated, just in case, but there was no one on their path to the Entrance Hall. Once they were out on the grounds, Hermione understood why Ginny had been so keen to see what the thing was. A bright light shone from the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a considerable distance from Hagrid's hut.

"Maybe it's a phoenix?" Hermione whispered. "It feels like it's too bright even for that." Ginny just shushed her. As they got closer, Hermione could make out the vague figure of a person, a man? It was hard to tell, with the bright light that seemed to radiate from the figure in the center. Hermione's curiosity got the better of her, and any thought of caution slipped from her mind. She couldn't take her eyes off of the bright light.

"Hermione?" Ginny finally whispered. The younger girl put her hand on Hermione's shoulder, and that seemed to mostly break her out of her compulsion.

"I thought you wanted to see what it was," Hermione reminded her.

"I'm scared. Something doesn't feel right. We should have gotten McGonagall," the redhead said. Ginny's voice was shaky.

"Are those...feathers?" Hermione knew she should care more about Ginny's worries, but she couldn't think about anything but the figure. She stepped forward, but Ginny didn't, and she slipped out of the Invisibility Cloak.

"Wait! No, please come back," Ginny begged, but she refused to raise her voice above a whisper, and Hermione didn't seem to hear her. Instead, Hermione stepped forward again, once, twice and a third time.

"Hello?" Hermione called towards the figure, now less than twenty feet away from the source of the bright light. The figure finally turned towards the girls, though Ginny was still wrapped in the Invisibility Cloak. The redhead froze on the spot, unable to tear her eyes away from the figure. It stepped towards Hermione, who also seemed rooted to the spot where she stood.

"No!" Ginny finally called out, and the figure turned its attention to where Ginny stood. The figure still moved towards Hermione, and its- his- face was only visible for a moment, but Ginny knew exactly who he was. His face had been burned into her mind since she was eleven. He grabbed Hermione and with a flash of light, they disappeared.

The next thing Ginny knew, she opened her eyes from her dorm room in Gryffindor Tower. Sunlight was starting to peek through the window, and the light had been what had woken her. A bright...light? With a gasp, Ginny ran to Hermione's dorm, and without announcing her presence, Ginny threw open the curtains around Hermione's bed. The girl was there, curled up around a stuffed animal Ginny had never seen among Hermione's belongs before.

"Ginny?" the brunette groaned slightly. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh thank Merlin. I thought he'd taken you for good," Ginny said, and threw her arms around her friend. "What happened last night?" A blush formed on Hermione's face.

"What happened last night between Tom and I is private," she declared. Hermione had never used such a hostile tone with Ginny before, and she had to process for a moment before she even realized Hermione had said _that_ name. There was something terribly wrong here, and Ginny would figure out what happened.


	37. Shadows

**(I was sick for a few days, so thanks for your patience! This one is continued from the chapter 36, Bright.)**

Ginny frowned, as she watched her friend, well, former friend. Hermione was sitting over at the Slytherin table, on her of hands entwined with Tom Riddle's. After that weird night, everything changed. No one had any idea who Voldemort was, and Ron had not so gently suggested Ginny take a trip to the Hospital Wing. She'd stopped talking about it after that.

The changes weren't immediately obvious, despite the sudden lack of a looming war. Luna was still a Ravenclaw, and still her best friend, still teased. Ron as as clueless as always. Harry was even pretty much the same, even without the prominent lightning bolt scar. The biggest difference was Hermione. She was still a Gryffindor, but without Voldemort, and Quirrell with his stupid toll, she never became friends with Harry and Ron. Instead, she became closer to some of the girls in Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

Not being friends would be manageable, as they had never been the best of friends, but Ginny didn't know how to deal with Hermione's barely contained hostility towards her. She hadn't tried to approach Hermione since _that_ night, but it hadn't escaped Ginny's notice that Tom kept an eye on her. He looked exactly as he had when she wrote in his diary, and panic seized her every single time her eyes met his. Ever since his sudden transfer, Ginny had put a lot of effort into never being alone in the castle. She went to meals with her dorm mates, and classes with Luna. Even in Gryffindor common room, she made a point to sit with her friends, or help younger students with their homework.

It was nearly a month before Tom finally caught up to her. A Quidditch practice ran long and, as the sun started to set, Demelza hadn't seen the Bludger that hit her arm. Harry asked Ginny to take her up to the Hospital Wing. Once Madam Pomfrey started tending to Demi, the medi-witch waved Ginny back to her common room. Despite her hesitation in the walk back to Gryffindor Tower, Ginny obeyed. She was halfway to the portrait hole when she heard footsteps behind her. She whirled around with her wand in hand, pointed at a particularly dark shadow.

"What do you want, Tom?" Ginny snarled, but it wasn't Tom Riddle who stepped out of that shadow. Hermione Granger, her friend - former friend, stepped out. She also had her wand pointed at the red head.

"A bit of a temper there? Are you sure you want to be playing into stereotypes, with that hair?" Hermione replied. She sounded crueler than Ginny ever thought she was capable of. Ginny didn't bite her lip nervously, or even shake at all. Her wand was steady, and she was a word away from hexing, if necessary.

"I know Tom changed something. You have to remember, Hermione," Ginny told her. Ginny had her eyes trained on Hermione, and didn't notice the second person until the curse left his lips. She only had a second to react, and despite her DA training, she didn't get her shield up in time. A bit of pain shot through Ginny's chest, but it certainly wasn't a Cruciatus Curse. It felt like a sort of stunner, with a body binding mixed in. She could still see, as her eyes were frozen open, and she could hear everything.

"So you were right about her crazy little thoughts," Hermione said. She wrapped her arms around Tom and kissed him. It made Ginny want to retch.

"I'm always right, darling," he said, with the same amount of affection the Tom in the diary had talked about the basilisk. Another jet shot from his wand, wordlessly. Her vision went dark.


End file.
